


The Dark Heart of the Dragonborn

by Moonraven373



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Adventuring, Angst, Assassins, Awkward Tension, Blood, Extremely long story line, F/M, Gore, Killing, Mental Illness, Pain, Pining, Second Guessing, Sex, light fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:48:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 44,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27160682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonraven373/pseuds/Moonraven373
Summary: This is based off of my current playthrough with my female Bosmer named Shade. Bitter at the responsibilities of the Dragonborn, she turns to honing her skills with the Dark Brotherhood instead. Everything was operating smoothly as she plans to overtake the Brotherhood for herself, until a Jester she met on the road earlier makes another appearance. I'm writing this as I play through, and there will be many embellishments as to how I wish the game played out instead. I adore my dear sweet Cicero, and this will be a very long story with a very slow build towards their relationship, with lots of pining and confused feelings.I'll be trying to add to this every week or two until it's hit a point I'm happy with.Also, I started in first person but kept going to third person, so I rewrote this it that way. Sorry if there's any slip ups I missed.
Relationships: Cicero (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s), Cicero/Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Cicero/Female Listener (Elder Scrolls)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 19





	1. The Dull Life of a Dragonborn

Lately it’s been difficult for her to keep her mind straight. She was there at Helgen, she was there when the dragon attacked. It feels unreal that she had discovered herself to be Dragonborn. She was not the kind of person that has ever been important to anyone. Yet now apparently she was one of the most important people in all of Skyrim. Everything has been so… much. She was finding little time to just relax and be herself, as unimportant as she was. Before the dragon came, she was just a forgotten wood elf, with no family, no ties, even abandoning the name she had. She was Shade, the Bosmer that could disappear into the woods. She wasn’t even much to look at. She was smaller than average, and thin since her youth, so she didn’t even have the pretty curves of some females. She was tan, like most Bosmers, although a bit lighter than most. Her eyes were the same yellow as many others. And her barely shoulder length hair was just plain black. She didn’t even really have any prominent markings or tattoos that were common to her people. Only a few small scars from stupid mistakes years ago.  
She always managed to survive, but had nothing to her name really. Now though, between running around for these lazy Jarls and doing the errands of the Grey Beards, she felt like she was losing what little self she had. No one viewed her for who she was any longer. She was just the Dragonborn, yet now some Thane as well. Empty words from people looking to use her as a pawn. She had made a few casual friends, but all they asked about was what it’s like to be Dragonborn, or send her on errands for themselves, well, the ones that were brave enough to even speak to her at least. The excitement at being this Dragonborn had quickly turned to dismay, and she found herself feeling pangs of loneliness lately.  
The more she did, the more they demanded from her. Although she wasn’t really complaining. Filling the days exploring caves, rooting out werewolf hunters, learning how to use the voice, and simply picking flowers to mix potions with helps to keep her mind from her lonely nights. Today held an odd encounter though. She was out wandering around, picking flowers, hunting the occasional deer, and she was simply lost in the moment. She almost ran into the strange little man with the exuberant voice. He was standing off to the side of the road next to a cart with a large box in it. He was dressed as a jester, something unseen in Skyrim. Had she been paying attention, she mostly likely would have avoided him, but it was too late to stealthily slip away. Their eyes met and he suddenly turned his rambunctious squealing to her. He was very upset about his wagon wheel, and seemed a bit unstable. Apparently the large box contained his mother’s remains, and he was convinced the nearby farmer could help fix his cart, yet he refused to. It looked like a simple fix to just get his wagon wheel repaired and have him be on his way. She agreed to go talk to the farmer he was ranting about, as he seemed anxious to move too far from the cart.  
She made her way up to the farm and spoke to the farmer, however he was gruff and very unpleasant. He even tried to convince her to just lie to the guards to get rid of the stranger. She attempted to persuade the rude farmer with honeyd words, yet he refused again. she didn’t know if it was the man’s laziness, or pompous attitude, or even the fact he was so quick to suggest a stranger lie for him. She really wasn’t sure what snapped inside her, but snap it did. She grabbed the surly old man and pulled him close, growling a threat into his ear. When she pushed him away, his wide eyes stared in shock at her as he nodded and trod off to get some tools. Turning on her heel and heading back to the jester, she felt a smile spreading on her face. She was going to make sure that cart was fixed. As she looked back up however, her eyes met with the strange man again, an almost sinister smile on his lips. He must have seen what transpired. She was used to usually keeping herself in check to avoid the fearful gazes of people, yet he had seen her aggressively threaten someone and showed no fear. Instead he stared at her with glee in his eyes. His look threw her off a bit, and she just stared at him, finding it hard to speak.  
The farmer soon rushed over and sat a small crate with some simple tools on the ground next to the broken wheel. The whole situation was awkward, and the farmer didn’t speak or look at either of them while he worked. She didn’t have any words to add, and mostly just kept tabs on where the guard was on the road, not wanting to leave in case the farmer turned the odd jester in to the guard himself. The jester however, kept muttering to himself, often speaking as though his mother’s remains could hear him. It unsettled the farmer, and he worked pretty fast to fix the wheel.  
When he stated that it was fixed, she let out a sigh of relief. The jester was the opposite, and exploded in merriment. He clapped his hands and did a small dance as he squealed in glee to see the wheel fixed. The farmer shot a glare at both of them and stomped back up to his farm. She enjoyed watching him walk away, too afraid to oppose her. Standing there smiling, she watched after him, when there were suddenly arms wrapped around her. Looking over her shoulder she could see the manic expression on the jester’s face. The arms around her felt thin, yet stronger than she thought they should be. He was shorter than she thought he should be as well, yet he still had a few inches on her. He was close enough that she could see his red hair and the freckles that dotted his cheeks and nose. There was a sudden warmth in the tips of her ears as she grew uncomfortable.  
“Let me go!” The words were much louder than she had meant them to be, but the arms suddenly released.  
“Yes yes yes, Cicero got carried away, yes he did. He was just so excited that you helped him get his mother mobile again!”  
He went on and on, thanking her and offering her the coin he mentioned earlier, yet she declined. Apologizing for yelling at him, she wished him well as she walked away. A part of her didn’t want to leave, yet felt embarrassed and wanted to get some distance between them so she could collect herself. She walked quickly until she couldn’t hear his sing-song high pitched voice anymore, and then pushed on further. She had walked all the way back home, not noticing much around her.


	2. Initiation Into Darkness

It’s been a few weeks since meeting that strange man on the road with his mother’s coffin in a broken cart. Everyone else has just become faces easily forgotten, all the same to her, yet his odd smile stuck in her mind, sometimes late at night when she sat quietly listening to the fire crackle. She could still remember the smallest details of his face, his clothes, his voice. She found herself smiling thinking of his contagious laugh. Even now as she crouched outside a dark house in a distant cold city, she could hear his giggle in her mind.  
There had been rumors and whispers that led her here. Rumors of a young boy performing a dark ritual in a house that should be empty. She wasn’t sure what led her here, it could have just been simple curiosity, but there was a definite pull. She had made a decision as of late, that during the day she would be this Dragonborn that everyone expects, but when it is night time, she slipped into dark leathers and covered her face, doing whatever the hell she pleased. She deserved her own happiness, and right now, that happiness was unwinding the hushed rumors of a child performing something called the Black Sacrament.  
Watching as the guard passes by, completely unaware of her presence, she nears the door. Her stealth and other abilities have been honed over these last few weeks, and the lock is picked with ease before she slips inside the house. There is a young boy’s voice in the house, chanting in the darkness, and she silently stalked towards the glow of candle light. As she stepped into the light, he looked up, showing no fear and is happy to see her. He quickly talks of his escape from an awful woman who runs an orphanage, and that his mother is gone. She felt a bit of sadness for this kid, and agreed to kill this woman, although she tells him she wasn’t part of this “Dark Brotherhood” he keeps mentioning. He brushes it off and says something of a reward, but it’s unimportant, she had her own motives.  
After slipping back out of the house, she made her way out of town and got to her horse waiting outside in the stables. Riding most of the night towards Riften, the journey was uneventful. As she got closer though, her heart starts pounding and she could feel the rush of excitement at the thought of killing this person. Life in Skyrim was hard, and some of the people here are so petty, so lowly, so evil, that killing them was no real sin. She would be cleansing this world one worthless person at a time. If she was to serve as the Dragonborn, then it would be her own way.  
Seeing the walls of Riften ahead of her, she hopped off her horse, Frost. She had been here plenty, and had made a few strong connections with the Thieves Guild, and the guards knew better than to bother her. Once inside the heavy doors, she made her way quietly through the still dark streets to the Orphanage. Slipping inside after a careful check for guards, and sticking to the shadows, she slowly crept through the house towards the voice of an older woman. Disgust was too light of a word for the words she is spouting towards these children. The young boy was right, she was an evil woman. She knocked a black arrow, and let it fly from the shadows. The old woman drops and the children rejoice, some even mention the boy who had escaped, saying he must have contacted the dark brotherhood. She slipped back out almost as fast as the deed had been done, not wanting to stick around. She now had to ride back and inform the boy that she’s taken care of now.  
Leaving Riften though, she felt the heaviness in her eyes, and didn't look forward to the long ride back to Windhelm. Although if she didn’t push on, the absence of the Dragonborn might be noticed. So her and Frost travel most of the day, stopping once so she could rest him and sneak in a small nap. It was beautiful to watch the seasons change the further north they went.  
Finally Windhelm was ahead, and she left Frost at the stables when she reached them. The walk to the large heavy doors seems long for her tired body, but things must be wrapped up and she had to return before she can finally rest. Those thoughts still don’t keep her from stretching her tired body as she walks. As she gets closer to the gate though, she lowers her head and tries to avoid people as best as she can. To them she is just some random traveler in plain dark clothes, not the Great Dragonborn in her gilded armor. At least in the colder towns her covered face draws less attention.  
She makes my way towards the boy’s house, careful now to move unseen. Stepping back inside, she quickly finds the boy, excited, and very thankful for the dark deed. He shoves some minor treasures into her hands, including some plate, although the treasure was not important. Our agreement done, they go their separate ways and she makes her way back to Frost. Just one more journey and then sleep.  
Barely making it into Breezehome, and out of the dark outfit that hides her identity, she stuffs it away under the bed and falls into the blankets and furs, closing her eyes and letting sleep embrace her. Her mind would often wander while she slept. She had visions where she can see herself as the great Dragonborn savior, eyes vacant and off somewhere distant. Sometimes though, there was this vision of this dark figure, consumed by shadow, her eyes sharp and a smile on her face. She would often wake from these dreams with her heart pounding and a feeling of being pulled in two directions. It’s enough to drive anyone mad.  
Finally awake, noting the cast of the sunlight in the house and realizing how late she slept in, she blinks her eyes, trying to clear the fog of sleep from her mind. Sitting up and stretching tells her where all the sore muscles are. Another day where she would have to pretend, would have to be poised, would have to keep calm and collected. She looks to the armor she’d been known to wear around in this area, elven, golden, and beautiful. It grabs attention and makes her look important to those who don’t know her, and easily identifiable by those who do know her. Eventually it will have to be put on, she’ll have to head out, and take care of some bandit camp the Jarl’s been complaining about lately. I hate this armor, she thought to herself.  
Heading out the door she nods to the people who smile and greet her, unable to reply with a breakfast roll stuffed in her mouth. SheI barely makes it out the gates of Whiterun when a courier comes running up the road towards her however. The many couriers on the roads of Skyrim are a common sight, although this one seems a bit anxious, and is coming directly at her. He greets her, and hastily hands a letter to her. She asks who it’s from, but he doesn’t offer any additional information before turning and running off.  
Odd, but couriers are an odd lot. Opening the letter, her heart skips a beat and she can’t help but to look around and check for any prying eyes. Stuffing the parchment in a belt pocket, she continues away from the gate and the guards standing outside. As she passes by one guard on patrol he rudely comments about seeing fur in her ears, getting a glare in return. True, she had received the blessing of Hircine, and spent some nights simply going wild and running loose as a werewolf, but any decent man should not comment on fur in a ladies ears. Perhaps she’ll meet him on a dark night when not so easily recognized.  
After heading down the road for a while and making sure she was now alone, she pulled the note back out and unfolded it. Her heart starts pounding again, as she examines the black handprint on the parchment. Two words, and only two are written on it. “We know”. Her mind races on thoughts, trying to remember everything she could of the rumors and tidbits of information gathered on the Dark Brotherhood. It seems someone knew of what she did, and even managed to connect her two personas. It wasn’t fear that gripped at her heart, it was excitement. Although the thought of someone knowing how to contact her, without her knowing who they were, was unsettling.  
She quickly made her way to the bandit camp, and delighted in slashing, smashing, shooting, and shouting them apart. No one sees this part of their hero, this violent abandon as lives are taken and people are torn apart. Maybe if they saw this side of me, they wouldn’t see me as their hero, she mused. But then again, these lands are violent in nature and life is hard. Although the looks on people’s faces when she returns home, splattered in blood, tells her they still fear her more than they like her.  
Hurrying back home before night sets in, she was hopeful to sell some of the salvageable gear to the blacksmith. These Bandits were always wrapped in simple furs and used crude weapons, so there wasn’t much worthwhile. Although every gold she could get lately was going towards a house she had begun construction on out towards Falkreath. The blacksmith just inside the gates sees her splattered with blood and knows she would have some items they may want to buy.  
After selling off the steel weapons and fur armor pieces, she heads home, mostly ignoring those wandering the streets. Her mind has been centered on the crumpled parchment with the black hand print on it. Stepping inside the house, she goes through the motions of making a simple dinner and eats it, exhausted, while her mind wanders.  
‘There is no man, beast, or even Daedra I fear in this realm anymore. Every foe has been easy for me to defeat. I imagine I could even kill a Jarl, given the proper timing and method. I’ve even managed to make a few pacts with the Daedra, and carry a few items they’ve awarded me.’ She thought as she smiled and her finger twirls the ring Hircine awarded her. Her heart beats with the thrill of an unknown, possibly challenging foe. ‘No, this life has become somewhat boring. When I can single handedly slay a dragon and absorb its very soul, there are not many mortals I fear.’ Eating the last bit of bread, she clears the table, and heads to the bedroom. Although her body is a bit tired, she doesn’t think her mind wants to sleep. Slipping out of the golden armor and leaving it on its stand, her mind wanders to the dark leathers stuffed under the bed. ‘I could slip out tonight and work off some of this energy, or even go run wild, howling into the night in my werewolf form.’ She smiles at her thoughts.  
There was suddenly the image of the odd jester on the road. ‘Maybe I could go back to that farm, teach the farmer a lesson in manners, or just wreck his place a bit. I wonder where the jester was even heading. The only graveyard I can think of was the one by Falkreath. Maybe I should start sleeping at the property I have out there. There’s a small, but livable house there. I could be away from the town, and away from prying eyes. Free to do more activities I enjoy, without worrying about guards and city gates just outside my door. I could spend tomorrow gathering what I need and be sleeping there tomorrow night even.’ Her mind played with the idea, the thought of red hair and freckles popping up here and there.  
With her mind a little more focused on a new plan, and somewhat calmed down, she laid down and tried to force herself asleep. ‘The sooner I sleep, the sooner I can be up, and I can prepare to move.’ She repeated it like a chant in her head. Every time her mind starts racing, she tries to calm it, and tries to grasp on to the sleep that keeps eluding her. Even a hour later, her body still tosses and her mind still struggles to keep calm. Barely asleep, still somewhat lucid, but she can’t seem to commit. Something is starting to nag at the back of her mind, and the feeling like she should get up keeps gnawing at her mind, but stubbornness keeps trying to force sleep.  
Suddenly her mind is dark, although this doesn’t feel like sleep. This is just a deep void, with no rest. There’s the feeling like she can’t wake up, and there’s an odd feeling, like being watched, which makes her feel like the hair on the back of her neck should be on end. She can’t feel her body or get it to respond, and there’s no movement, even in a dream. There is just darkness, and whispers. Fighting to regain any control of her body, it was like pulling out of a sludge, but her mind finally feels like it’s coming out of the fog. The numbness is fading from her body, and her limbs can finally feel again.  
Heavy eyes slowly open as her arms move to get under her body and sit up. Everything is blurry, and she felt sore and stiff. There are no blankets or a soft bed even, instead there is just a hard, dirty floor. The scent of mold and dust have replaced the familiar smell of home, but there’s also the smell of old blood. Her vision is slowly clearing and her body seems to be less sluggish now, but a voice catches her off guard as she tries to get up.  
“Sleep well?”  
Turning to see some woman in red and black leather sitting atop a shelf, her mind snaps out of the fog in an instant. She looks ridiculous, although possibly dangerous.  
“Who are you and where am I?” There’s no fear in her voice. This woman’s demeanor is already grating on her nerves, and it’s taking most of her patience to not just simply transform and tear her body apart. Curiosity is her only savior tonight.  
She says words, but evades answering the question, mentioning the old bitch that was killed at the orphanage. She asks how this mystery woman knew, but again, words with no real answers in them. She drones on and her voice makes her blood boil. She says there’s a problem, and looks at her expectantly. ‘I know she wants a response, yet I am done speaking to her. She doesn’t want to answer me? Then she will get nothing further from me.’ The thoughts aren’t spoken, and her silence doesn’t stop the woman from continuing on however. Although she finally gets to her point, claiming she had taken a kill from the Dark Brotherhood, and it must be repaid by killing one of her captives.  
Shade is finally standing, and turns to look at the poor hooded fools she’s got kneeling on the floor. There’s a pang in her mind though. ‘Another person who wants to order me around, who wants to use me.’ She thinks. Once again though, curiosity gets the better of her. The Dark Brotherhood? It was intriguing. If all it took was killing some hapless person, then it was a small price to pay. The Nord man sounded sincere, a simple soldier claiming he got carried away. The shrill woman certainly had an attitude that would make anyone want to kill her. The Khajiit was even more pompous and almost bragged of all the disgusting crimes he had committed.  
As Shade stalked around each person, she was a bit surprised to see she was left armed with her ebony dagger, and she pulled it as she approached the Khajiit, that was still running his mouth, even making threats. The dagger is lifted high, and Shade turns to look this assassin in the eyes as she plunges it down into his chest. Turning towards the Dark Brotherhood woman, wanting answers, the shrill woman starts spouting off again. Shade’s arm almost moves before her mind does, and she slashes her throat. The Nord seems smart enough to remain silent, so she heads past him towards the woman.  
Still perched atop the shelves, she seems pleased by the actions. The cold face of the small Bosmer stares back, still offering her no words, finding that people will often divulge more information if you remain silent. Although she hands her a key, and says she’s free to go now, the debt to them now repaid. She lingers though, then offers what feels like it was the true purpose of this whole charade. She offers for her to join them. Now Shade finally speaks, but only a few words to accept. Her calm face covers the excitement and her pounding heart. ‘She has no idea what she’s getting into, and I am determined to rule this Dark Brotherhood. This could be what I’ve been itching for, instead of these errands and participating in this silly war for Nords that secretly distrust and look down on me and my pointed ears.’ She thinks to herself, giving a a pointed stare and smirk.  
The woman tells her where to meet her next, and how to get into their sanctuary. It seems the move to Falkreath is better timed than first thought. There’s a giddy feeling in her chest, and she can’t help but smile as she turns and leaves the small shack. She made no move to follow, yet she didn’t care much if she did or didn’t. Shade’s hands now itch to feel her blood upon them, but she can live as long as she serves a purpose.


	3. The Black Door

It takes a bit to get her my bearings, but she quickly realized where she was. ‘Why did this wench have to drag me so far across the land just to harass me? The walk back home will be a bit annoying, but not impossible to do before dawn breaks. I’ll have to thank her for that later on, if I get the chance.’ Her thoughts turn to slicing bits of her skin off a little at a time as a way of thanking her. She doesn’t know why she makes the bile in her stomach turn, but she does. The march back home is uneventful though, although many opportunities to unleash her violence were passed up. Shady figures walking the road late at night, the scent of skooma coming from them, imperials marching a captive to some undisclosed area, at one point there might have even been some Thalmor walking a road, but they were too far away to identify. Staying stealthy until she reached Whiterun once again, choosing to hop over a low spot in the wall instead of using the gates.  
After pushing inside her home, she hastily writes a few notes out, one to the Jarl, one to the Greybeards, and one to Aela of the companions. Simply picking up and moving would be a bit out of character for the Dragonborn, so at least a note would make things more official. If she actually respected them, she’d go to them in person, but they only saw her as a tool to use in their boring games.  
Packing away a few key items of armor, some of her favorite weapons, a good amount of food for a few days, potions and ingredients, and a few other essential items, she was ready. She had the golden armor on, and would travel as the Dragonborn today, mostly to avoid people bothering her. Most people outside the walls of a city avoided her due to fear. Simpletons, people happy to be like worms in the dirt, never striving for more. Pathetic. She hated having to keep doing little things here and there for them, to keep them safe.  
Walking to the gates, the guards give her a few looks, curious as to why she was carrying so much with her. She heads to the closest one and hands him the three sealed letters, telling him to deliver the two, and to find a courier for the third. He nodded, not wanting to defy the simple task, but seemingly upset to be ordered around. It was a frustration she was very familiar with, yet it felt good to return the favor.  
She headed out and strapped things to Frost. Hopping up and heading out, she never felt more excited than she did right now, and let a sly smile play on her face. So many thoughts and ideas circulated in her head. The ride was long, but she would still be there with plenty of time left in the day to explore a bit. Not much happened during the day, other than riding past a few caves and ruins she made note of so she could come back and explore them another day. There was a purpose to today, and she couldn’t afford any distractions.  
Seeing the small house, she was happy with the time. It was only a little bit after midday. Getting down and leading Frost to his stall, she sees that the housecarl appointed there has been keeping the place in order. Rayya her name was, a redguard, and good with her curved blades. It was appreciated that she chose to patrol the land during the day, but heads back to town at night. She really should have moved here before now, but she was here now, and everything seems to be lining up perfectly.  
Shade waves to Rayya before heading inside to set about to unpacking the items, and getting the fire going inside the small house. There is a foundation set and a few logs placed behind this house, but at the time she had needed more gold to purchase more logs before she could continue the expansion of the house. That might be something to be done tomorrow, considering she had plenty of coin from the last few bandit camp raids. She sat and ate a few bits of food before hastily leaving the house, heading towards Falkreath. ‘I should inform the Jarl here of my move and intentions before nightfall.’ She thought, although she hated the pompous boy more than she hated the arrogant Jarl of Whiterun, and should have just written another note. Perhaps just informing another guard would suffice.  
Trodding down towards the road, she passed by the tower she had personally cleared out a couple weeks back, still empty of bandits and not an issue. The forested lands by Falkreath were a welcome break from the open plains surrounding Whiterun, although it could get a bit dreary with the amount of rain that seems to fall here. Spotting the town ahead, she could still see plenty of people moving about. Although not sure where to head first, to the inn, the apothecary, or maybe something else, she does inform the first guard she sees of her message to the Jarl, and he seems happy to relay the message for her. ‘Finally someone that doesn’t immediately irritate me with their attitude.’  
She keeps walking, lost in thought, just kind of wandering the streets with no real destination. ‘I can’t wait until tonight, and I can’t wait to indulge myself once again. If they don’t keep me entertained, then I can easily dispatch them and carry on. I have the soul of a dragon, the blood gift and blessing of Hircine, and I secretly carry a masque from Clavicus Vile and an Ebony Blade from Mephala that feeds off of people’s trust and my betrayal. So the more they trust me, the sweeter the payoff would be should I choose to end their Dark Brotherhood.’  
Her thoughts stop when she suddenly realizes where she is. Her feet had carried her to the graveyard. She didn’t know why she went to this place, but can’t help but look around the area and see if there are any signs of freshly dug graves. There’s no signs of any disturbance though, as she slowly walks around and plucks some of the nightshade that loves to grow here. It was such a random thought, but she can’t help but think of the eccentric jester and their interaction. His little freckles across his cheeks as he hugged her were still so vivid in her mind. She could feel her heart beating faster and that familiar heat in the tips of her ears. Why did he leave such an impression? Why couldn’t she shake him from her thoughts? Why was she still looking for him?  
Shaking her head, trying to get the random thoughts from her mind, and turning from the graveyard, she stuffed the nightshade away into a satchel. ‘I should head to the apothecary first, see if she would let me use her alchemy table and make up some potions to use or sell. Then I could head to the lumber mill and see if he could get some more logs delivered by tomorrow. Lastly I could hit the blacksmith and see what metals he has so I can get more work done tomorrow.’ She forced her head to stay on the tasks at hand.  
She wanders about and does her few errands, trying to stay focussed on the mental list for tomorrow, and not think of tonight. ‘Don’t get too excited and rush yourself, since there are still hours until dark.’ She said this over and over to herself, trying to stay focused and calm. Potions made, lumber and iron bought, she started heading out of the town. Just as she’s about to leave though, another courier is running up the road towards her. Once he’s before her, he hands off a parchment, then trots back off again. What a silly lot, the couriers, to spend their days running to and fro throughout Skyrim. Opening the letter she sees a familiar handwriting. The Greybeards have received her message, but they have a new tip for some place for her to explore to further learn the words of the dragons. Nothing new there, and no real care that she moved, as expected. It gets stuffed away and she heads back home.  
Passing by Rayya on the way to the house, she greets her respectfully, unlike the surly housecarl appointed in Whiterun. She mentions her plans to expand the house, and that there should be a place for her to sleep if she didn’t want to walk back every day. She seems happy at the choice, but says she is happy to do whatever is commanded of her. She is an excellent person, and it might not be bad having someone watch the place at night as well. Thinking of the items of value, and the fact the house will be empty on some nights, has her slightly worried. Any bandit stupid enough to steal from her can easily be dispatched, but she didn’t want to waste the time tracking them down should it happen.  
She can see the little home, and her horse ahead. The sun is still out, but it’s getting pretty low now. ‘I should eat, grab a few potions, and get prepared for tonight.’ As she set some food over the fire, she gathered the dark leathers, and many small bottles of potions, along with any small weapons that could easily be hidden on her body. ‘If things go my way, then I am over prepared, but if they go south, I can at least make sure I am armed and ready for a fight.’ No one should trust an assassin that kills for money. After slipping into the snug leather, she eats dinner. Simple, but warm and nourishing, and not so much as to make her sluggish.  
Slipping out the door and checking the landscape around her, she starts heading towards the road, ears are alert, eyes wide in the dark, and her movement silent. Her preferred method of movement is to travel within sight of the road, running parallel to it. That way she can keep an eye on the travelers at night without them even knowing she was there. There are no others on the road tonight though, and all her sensitive ears pick up are the distant howls of wolves. Carrying on past Falkreath, she makes it towards the area the woman had described. All that can be seen is forest however, and she starts to look around more intensely. In the stillness of the night, her ears can hear an odd humming, almost as though a nirnroot is growing nearby. Going a bit further, the sound gets slightly louder, although still just a whisper in the night. Then she spots the natural dip in the land, just as she had described.  
Moving closer, she can see a door, hidden under a natural outcropping of stone and dirt. There’s a slight red glow coming from the ominous skull on the door, and the whisper is now a dull humm. One slow step placed before the next, scanning everything around her, ready for anything to happen. One more step closer to the door and her blood ran like ice when a voice was heard whispering a question.  
“What is the music of life?”  
The whispered question came from the very door. There is no other source for the voice in the darkness. The door hums louder, and it sounds more like breathing with a dull, slow, heartbeat. She knew the words to say, should the assassin be trusted. Heart pounding in her throat, she takes another step and whispers back to the door.  
“Silence, my brother.” There is a pause that feels like an eternity after the words are spoken.  
“Welcome home.” The door whispers back finally, before creaking open and allowing her inside.  
Making her way down the small stairway, towards the well lit area ahead, she took in every detail. The air is warmer than the night air outside, and the place smells of many people. Her eyes are drawn to a table and a woman leaning against the wall just beyond it, blocking further passage into the place. She was in the black and red leather just like the other woman, yet her head was uncovered. She was fair looking, with Nord features like blonde hair and blue eyes.  
“Ah, there you are. Found the place alright?”  
She knew that voice. She can feel the heat in her stomach, and the rage in her blood, just at hearing that voice. ‘Now I can see her face though, and she isn’t perched on any shelves like a loon at least.’ She muses to herself. “What happens now?” It’s hard to keep her voice calm and face blank.  
The woman goes to tell her that she was going to start a new life now, with this new family, and this sanctuary is now her home, the safest place in all of Skyrim. Remaining silent again in response, she can’t keep her mouth shut and has to drag on about it. She talks of lining up work for her, yet says she should go talk to someone else for the time being. She hands off some leathers, much like what she’s wearing, and sends her to meet the others.  
‘What a trusting knave. I feel like this place will soon become mine, and hope the rest of these assassins are just as trusting. It seems foolish of an assassin. Something I will not hesitate to take advantage of.’ Their logic didn’t make much sense, she thought, as she headed deeper into the sanctuary, hearing a group of people recanting stories of victims. A young girl seems rather out of place, but Shade herself had a rough childhood, so she was not one to judge. Thoughts of the questionable things done to survive childhood scattered her thoughts a bit, but they were snapped back when she could smell the smell of death coming from the vampiric child. That explained that. An argonian as well, although she had heard of the shadow scales, so it wasn’t surprising to see one here. An old man with nothing striking about him, along with a Dunmer that seems no different than the rest. Another older man, but he is barefoot and his body in far better shape than the other. Their eyes meet and she knows it immediately, he is also a werewolf. Finally, a redguard man, who seems to have the presence of someone in charge.  
At this point everyone is staring at her as she continues closer to the group, showing no fear but being cautious..  
“You must be the newcomer Astrid told me about. I’m Nazir, and welcome to our family.” The deep voice of the dark man was nice and welcoming.  
“Nazir? Astrid said to talk to you for some contracts.” She makes sure to keep her voice respectful but authoritative. ‘They will see, I will not show fear, and I will not back down, and I will soon be their leader, they just don’t know it yet.’ She thought to herself.  
He nods, apparently he was already pretty prepared for a newcomer. He lists off a few contracts she can take, small simple kills, one even sounded like he said it was a beggar. Understandable that they want to see what she can do first. After speaking about these contracts, he suggests she introduce herself to the rest of the people gathered there, and get to know them all.  
The small girl walks up brazenly and starts talking in an odd way. She seems so… malicious, the vampirism very apparent the closer she gets. That explains it, and also probably makes for a great tool for assassinations. The Argonian tells her a bit about himself and his rough start in life. An assassin from birth basically. The old man and the Dunmer have wandered off it seems, so she looks to the werewolf next. He says his name is Arnbjorn, and that he’s also Astrid’s husband. He also seems to have a bit of her arrogant attitude.  
“So they all know what you are then? Just like with the un-child?” Her question catches him a bit off guard, due to its sudden bluntness.  
“It’s no secret what I am here. We are a family of outcasts, but we are a family.” His tone is a bit softer now, so at least he understands the loneliness it is to be a werewolf. To be around people that can’t understand how it feels to run in a pack.  
“Then did you know the companions? Or did you receive the blood of a beast out in the wild?” She catches him with another blunt question.  
His expression darkens a bit. “I knew them. I was part of their inner circle, then they cast me out, claiming they didn’t like my methods. You’ll find the Dark Brotherhood a far better fit if you ask me.” He sits at a grindstone and seems like he’s done talking.  
She turned back to Nazir and asked if there’s anything else she needed to know. He didn’t seem to have much else to offer though, so she started back towards the door, excited to get started. There was no way she would sleep tonight, and wanted to prove herself quickly and gain their trust even more so now. Astrid didn’t seem like much of a leader, and it didn’t seem as though it would be hard to usurp her.  
On the way out, she noticed a dusty parchment hanging from the wall. Not knowing what drew her eyes to it, but something told her to stop and read it. There was a black handprint at the top, and it read “Tenets” under the hand.

I. Never dishonor the Night Mother. To do so is to invoke the wrath of Sithis.  
II. Never betray the Dark Brotherhood or its secrets. To do so is to invoke the wrath of Sithis.  
III. Never disobey or refuse to carry out an order from a Dark Brotherhood superior. To do so is to invoke the wrath of Sithis.  
IV. Never steal the possessions of a Dark Brother or Dark Sister. To do so is to invoke the wrath of Sithis.  
V. Never kill a Dark Brother or Dark Sister. To do so is to invoke the wrath of Sithis.

The rules seem more important to her than they should. Why would she not be told these rules before anything else? Why would they simply welcome her into their sanctuary, even giving her targets to kill, yet there was no mention of their rules? Her thoughts are interrupted by the older man.  
“Those were the days when we honored the Tenets. When we honored the Night Mother. When we had a Listener.” His voice grew sad at the last statement. She asked him who the night mother was, who Sithis was, and who a Listener was. He explained them all, sadness in his eyes. She next asked him in hushed tones that if the Night Mother was the one who told us what contracts to fill, yet there was no longer a Listener, then why did Astrid have contracts?  
“She doesn’t follow the old ways. She collects contracts through rumors and word of mouth, since no one hears the Night Mother’s orders. I can’t complain too much though, because she keeps the coin coming in so we still have a place to live and practice our dark arts.”  
They stand in silence before he lowers his head and walks off. He is definitely someone who would want to see someone else take charge, should she prove herself and honor these Tenets. She had made some very cautious deals with the Daedric Princes themselves, and considered herself clever and lucky. She had a basic understanding of Sithis, and felt like he would not be one you would want to anger. A Daedra is one thing, the Father of the Void was on a whole different level. She also wanted to get back to the house in Whiterun and poor over all the books for any mention of the Night Mother, Sithis, and the Dark Brotherhood. She wanted to know all she could before trying to upset their family of misfits. She finally head out, and set about making plans for the three small contracts.


	4. A Second Encounter

Days have passed now, and she had settled into a good routine. She went about her righteous duties during the day, helping people, chasing bandits, finding the occasional den of Silver Hand or Vampires. Then she would head back home in the early evening, get in a quick rest, then take care of a contract in the night if she could. Some nights were still left for herself though, running through the forest on all fours with reckless abandon, hunting the deer and tearing apart the unlucky traveler in the night. Once back home, there was usually enough time to rest and relax before another day of helping the people of Skyrim. Falkreath has some better people than Whiterun, and she'd found more peace in helping these people.  
She had finished the last contract the night before, and was excited she could head back to the black door hidden in the forest tonight. She hadn’t been back since that first time, and it was hard keeping calm, she was excited to go back and show them her prowess. Well, what little could be shown from killing the pathetic targets she was given. She looked to the sky, willing the sun to sink faster, so that she could slip away through the forest. The day had been spent finishing the expansion to her home, and it should be completed by nightfall, so she still had a bit to do. She had told Rayya that in a couple days there would be a bed set up for her, and she seemed happy. She had grown closer to the fierce Redguard over the last few days. She knew she had seen Shade slip out a few times, but she simply smiled and turned away when it happened. There seemed to be an unspoken approval between the two, and she was proving to be trusted.  
Finally done with the roof, she slipped down the side of the house and brushed herself off. Heading inside the house, it’s nice to see the large open space, even though it’s empty for now. She rests by the fire for just a bit, eating a simple soup, and reading a book she had brought back from Breezehome. She had studied up on everything that could be found on Sithis and the Night Mother. The more she read, the hungrier she was for information. She had also stumbled across an old spell book that taught how to cast a spell that allowed the user to travel great distances almost instantly, which would be quite helpful in assassination work. It would allow her to travel without the burden of running across random travelers or hiding a horse before making a kill.  
Tonight was the night she turned in the feeble contracts she was given, and there should be a real contract, a real challenge. Something she would have to cleverly plan, put thought into, have real consequences should she fail. She slipped into the red and black leather, a good upgrade to her simple dark colored leather. It let her still remain anonymous, yet if someone managed to catch a glimpse of the outfit and recognized it, they were struck with fear and wouldn’t even approach her. Pushing open one of the side doors to the house, she was happy to now have multiple options to leave out of. Her next plan was building a large library tower, allowing her to slip out and leave by the roof, the perfect vantage place to check for prying eyes before leaving. Tonight though, she was like a shadow in the trees as she stepped away.  
A gentle rain keeps footsteps more muffled than normal, and she almost runs through the woods in excitement to return to the sanctuary. Before knowing it, she was back at the Black Door, its ominous breathing matching her own excited breath. She pushed in, and made her way down the stairs. Astrid isn’t in the first room this time, which is fine since she seaking Nazir to turn in these simple contracts. Voices can be heard coming from inside, just like before, although something in them causes her body to freeze, unable to move on the steps. Her heartbeat now thunders in her ears, along with the high sing song voice coming from the next room. It sounded just like the odd Jester she had run into on the road so many days ago. Could it be?  
Legs finally start to move again, and she slowly makes her way towards the large central room of the sanctuary. She can hear specific voices, the werewolf, grumbling rude and spiteful, and the old man, talking approvingly of returning to tradition. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have taken so much time before returning.’ She thought to herself. Stepping quietly to be just over in the entryway, she is able to watch them squabble. It was indeed him. Those clothes and that voice were a dead give away. Astrid seems to rebuke her husband, yet then she turns and sneers at the odd man, reinforcing that she was the leader, and he was to answer to her, and her alone. He agreed in such an overly exuberant way it seemed mocking in it’s own way. Shade couldn’t help but smile to herself.  
They all started to walk away as he did a small dance and seemed genuinely joyful just to be here. The man was seriously off his rocker, but it was somewhat endearing. There was that same heat in the tips of her ears and that flustered feeling bubbling up from inside as she thought of his freckles for some reason. She took a few slow breaths, trying to calm herself, which was easily done when Astrid spotted her and approached, talking under her breath about the ‘muttering fool’. The heat in her face and ears was suddenly replaced with ice. She utterly loathed this presumptuous worm of a woman.  
She started rattling on about the next contract, which was barely heard over the rage in Shade’s veins. She had to try to get a hold of herself and try to listen while keeping a level head. She had to focus on the goal now, more than ever. So she just looked at her as she spoke and smiled. Her days will be numbered here, but patience would be key. She seemed to finish talking finally, and after a dismissing nod, Shade impatiently pushed past her towards the large central room.  
“I have to turn my contracts into Nazir first, then I’ll head out to the next one.” She said over her shoulder, a mocking smile on her face as she walked away. ‘I don’t know how long I can tolerate being here without plunging a dagger into her again and again and again.’ She thought, relishing the violent images her mind played over.  
The violent thoughts are interrupted by arms suddenly around her. Before she can even react, there’s a loud squeal and she knows exactly who it is.  
“Cicero remembers you! Cicero never forgets a face, and he remembers you! You are the one that helped poor Cicero and his Mother! Well, our Mother really.” His voice lowers and he leans closer, suddenly more serious than she had ever heard him. “For the Night Mother is mother to us all.” He says it so close that she can feel his breath on her ear and her face is suddenly on fire. Again she found herself looking over her shoulder at his pale, freckled face, the seemingly permanent smile looking especially wicked in this moment.  
“Um, can you let me go?” She didn’t yell at him this time though, like last time, and she patted his arm in a brief return of contact.  
“Oh! Yes yes yes! Cicero got so carried away again!” The arms release and she’s able to turn to face him.  
“That’s alright. Cicero, was it?” She asks while trying to regain some composure, and fidgeting with her snug clothing. It felt weird talking to him, but maybe it was just because he was so weird. He nodded excitedly and stared at her expectantly. It was a bit unnerving to have his intent gaze on her like that. “Well, since it appears your story is much more than I first thought it would be, what can you tell me about yourself?”  
“Ah! Cicero is but a humble servant and keeper to the Night Mother. Keeps her safe, keeps her clean, keeps her oiled. One day she will speak again! Yes she will! Then Cicero the Keeper will have a Listener to serve as well! Cicero tries to listen, but Mother never speaks to me, no…” He trails off and looks a bit sad.  
“Keeper? Listener? I’ve heard those words before but I still haven’t had someone explain them to me.” She wanted to stand there and talk to him, but was suddenly aware of Astrid’s eyes on her, so she spoke again before he had a chance to explain more. “Perhaps we will talk more after I do this next contract. It was nice to see you again Cicero, and I look forward to speaking again.”  
“Oh of course! And what should I call you, or do you prefer ‘kind stranger’?” He seemed happy at his little joke.  
“Shade is my name.” She smiled back at him. His goofy mannerisms just made it hard to keep her face blank. She dipped her head and headed further into the sanctuary to find Nazir.  
Nazir was where he usually was, down the steps at the communal table that served as a dining room of sorts. She approached him, proud to have completed his simple tasks, and ready to prove herself even more.  
“I’ve completed the contracts you gave me.” She said, the smile still on her face.  
“I’ve heard. You killed well. As well as anyone who could kill such simple targets.” He smiled, a simple jab without any condescending tones. There was approval in his eyes. “Although for your next contract, I can’t help you. Astrid has arranged it for you.”  
“Yes, I spoke with her already. We spoke after she spoke to Cicero.” She kept a close watch on his face, wanting to read his reactions. She knew the old man would most likely side with her, and I was completely certain the werewolf would not. The rest had yet to show enough personality to get a good read on.  
His expression darkened and he scowled as he expressed his disdain for minstrels, fools, thespians, and jesters. The smile was gone from her face now, and his words faded as she tuned them out. She nodded and left, a bit unsatisfied that the person she was wanting to impress the most was most likely against her ultimate plans. ‘I should have asked him about his feelings towards the Night Mother too. Don’t let your feelings get in the way until the deed is done.’ She scolded herself mentally, but ultimately just wanted to leave. As she went up the stairs she saw the Dunmer sitting in a darkened corner. She chats with her a bit, nothing substantial, and she seems somewhat neutral to it all. So another person who may stay loyal to Astrid and one that may side with her. Still nothing that would sway her chances, but at least now she knew who to befriend more and who to keep tabs on.  
Cicero was quite pleased with her as well it seemed, and he held the position of Keeper, which was supposed to be a respected position. Astrid’s absolute disregard and arrogance towards him certainly would keep him from siding with her. He could be a strong ally, and it seemed all she had to do was revere the Night Mother and he would be happy with her. Simple really, and what everyone should be doing, yet they seemed not to care.  
From what she had studied, Sithis was the Dread Father, and they should do all things for him, sending souls to his void. The Night Mother was his wife, and should be equally revered, for they should get the contracts directly from her. Yet this whole group follows Astrid, and kills simply for coin based off of rumors. The motions were the same, but the motives were wrong. The more she had read and learned, the further this place seemed from it’s principles. Dark Brotherhood is just a pretty name for a group of hired thugs and murderers. She couldn’t wait to talk with Cicero and learn more of the Keeper and the Listener, words she knew had weight, but couldn’t find much information on them.  
‘I need to do this next contract, then when I return I’ll have some time to talk and study.’ She mentally started planning things out as she usually did. Making her way towards the exit she readied herself. She was determined to do this all today. Once outside, and far from the door and any prying eyes, she used the spell to send herself to Markarth, not wanting to deal with traveling that distance. She knew the place well, since she had even been imprisoned there for foolish reasons. The woman would be found inside the local alchemy shop, yet it was still early, so she decided to head into the tavern to get a bit of food and see if there was any gossip or new happenings since she had last been there..  
She had a set of plain clothes worn over the red and black leather of the Dark Brotherhood, so she was simply a traveler hanging out at the inn. There were still times when total stealth wasn’t necessary. Some still knew her as the Dragonborn, yet they never questioned the choice of clothing. They probably understood her need for a day out of armor to herself. She ate her food and thanked the tavern owner before heading back out. Not much new had gone on, but there was a camp she would check out later that might have become a Forsworn hideout. She reached the door of The Hag’s Cure and pushed it open. Inside was a young girl named Muiri, who was the contact. She walked up to her and spoke quietly, informing the woman she was there from the Dark Brotherhood. She didn’t seem shocked or anything, and immediately informed her of the target she wanted killed. Some loser hiding with bandits, and there was another, a woman, who had also wronged her that was mentioned. There was so much hurt and betrayal in her eyes. She said the contract was just for the man, but she’d pay extra if the woman was killed as well. A woman’s heart is a dangerous thing to destroy.  
Agreeing to punish both of them for her, we parted ways. Seeing her eyes well up with tears was painful to watch. These people deserved their deaths it seemed. Although, either way, she wanted to kill these people quickly and get back to the answers she was desperate to learn. Heading out of town, she went for the location of the man first. If he was holed up with some bandit thugs, far from a town, then she could shred him in broad daylight with no repercussions. The woman might be a bit harder, so she planned to simply sneak into her home and drip the lotus extract poison on her blade before slipping it into her heart as she slept.  
She approached the area she was told would be harboring the man, and her beating heart was more than she could contain. Glancing around, mostly out of habit to make sure no one else was nearby, she closed her eyes and whispered a prayer to Hircine. There was a pulsinging sensation coming from the ring on her finger before her body started it’s transformation. Bones shifted, skin stretched, and the pain was sharp and oddly euphoric. Giving into the raging hot beast blood felt so good sometimes that she wished to stay this way. A warning always stayed in the back of her mind to keep herself focused though, or she would lose herself and become nothing but a beast, like those that wandered the woods at night, not sentient or reasoning anymore. Her body now done changing, she was no longer the small calm Bosmer, but an imposing beast of fur and teeth and claw. An unstoppable howl escapes her lungs before dropping to all fours and tearing towards the hideout as fast as this powerful body can take her.  
The first Bandit outside the door was still looking off into the distance, searching for the source of the nearby howl, when she was suddenly upon him. He had no time to react as she sailed through the air in a leap and grabbed his head, smashing it against the sturdy wood door. Another bandit started to knock an arrow, fumbling in his shock, yet she closed the distance between them with two large steps and slashed his throat open, spraying hot blood across the wall. She turned and smashed into the door, sending splinters into the dark room inside, blood dripping from both claws already. Just inside was another man, and she slashed at him. He managed to avoid getting hit, alerted by the noise outside most likely, and even slashed back, giving her arm a burning sensation. Enraged, she slash again, then again with the other claw. The first one misses, but the second catches at his exposed belly. Using the moment he staggers back to lunge forward and bite down on his throat, clamping down, she tears a chunk out and swallows the hot flesh before his body is even dead.  
Dropping down again, she went running through the halls and over the stone floors, in search of victim after victim. Each one is no match, and falls easily, fueling the bloodlust. Dusty stone is now red and slick with blood, the air metallic and filled with the wet noises of her masacre. She can’t help but indulge and feast on some of the hot fresh bodies, feeding the wolfish desires inside. The end of the hunt draws near though, for there are less scents of living bodies, and the halls are growing more and more silent. She starts to control herself, pulling back from the reckless abandon of violence and gore. Steadying herself, and calming her mind, she sends a prayer to Hircine again, feeling her body cooling, shrinking, and calming.  
Before her is the target, a man holding an axe with shaking hands, his eyes wild. Before him was a werewolf, that had shifted into this small woman, still soaked and splattered with the blood of his hired thugs. Her arms were completely covered up their elbows in blood, still steaming in the cold lair. Blood dripped from her panting mouth, her lower face and chest smeared and slick with red. Her eyes were wide and still wild like a beast coming upon its prey. The taste of his friend's flesh still strong in her mouth. “  
“I’ve come for you, Alain Dufont, with a message from Muiri.” She pulls her dagger from its sheath, the lotus extract still slick across it’s blade, and walks towards him with purpose. He starts to stammer some threat and raises his axe, but like a blinking eye she is there, before he has time to react, her knife in his gut. He gurgles at her, and she lifts the dagger hitting his sternum, cutting a deeper gash, letting his insides start to slip out. She stares into his eyes as his arm lowers and he drops the axe. Watching as the light fades from his eyes, this was becoming her favorite part. His last vision, her bloodied face, and his last sensation, her knife slowly twisting inside him.  
This was why she continued to do it. This is what kept her up at night sometimes. She found that she delighted in killing, in the slaughter of men. Was it evil? How could she be this person, born with a dragon’s soul, the last hope of a shattered land, that only felt joy when killing? Granted it wasn’t just anyone, and there were people she felt truly deserved to live and be protected, but she was quick to judge and kill. Did she really have the right to judge these people? Feelings as though she was still just a nobody sometimes troubled her mind, but she wasn’t that scared youngster anymore. Perhaps the fates were playing a cruel joke on her cynical soul, or was it just an error? She was treated so poorly all her life, just to now be regarded as a hero by those same people. Although some viewed her as their ultimate challenge, and would seek her out to try to best her. Why should she not pursue her own happiness then?  
Sheogorath must truly be behind this mess. She pulled the knife from the corpse of Alain Dufont, wiping it off on his clothing before sheathing it. As she walked back through his hideout, she grabbed the few valuables that survived the slaughter along the way. There’s not much to salvage from the shredded bodies and shattered weapons. Most armor is simple furs, drenched in blood and torn apart. She mostly takes what coins or little items they have hidden away on their bodies, or laying about on shelves. A few potions, some alchemic ingredients, a couple nice elven crafted daggers, one even had a golden necklace with an emerald in it.  
Stepping back outside, it’s still earlier than she thought it would be, so instead of using the magic to travel to the next target, she chose to walk. ‘If I take my time, I should get there just as night falls, although I should still hurry, and take some time to rest. Even after I kill the unfortunate woman, I’ll still have to head back to Muiri to collect before I can head back home. Then I could sit down and take some time to speak with the odd jester, Cicero.’ As she thinks out her plan she can’t help but smile as she thinks of him. It’s hard to understand the animosity towards him, and why the members of the Dark Brotherhood treat him with such disdain. She certainly planned on getting to the bottom of it all.  
As she travels, she still sticks to the woods, keeping the roads just within sight as usual. At one point she did stop to rest a bit and drink a potion she had made to help keep her awake and alert in the coming hours. Part way there she came across a small river, and as she stepped in to cross she saw the water run red behind her. Looking at her reflection she realized she was still crusted with blood on most of her body, so she spent a bit of time to wash off. Something in the magic of the ring Hircine had awarded her kept any clothing from tearing and falling away, almost like it became part of her skin, and changed back when she did. Same with her gear. She knew others that tore out of their clothing when they shifted, so she was happy she didn’t have to lug around extra clothing and have awkward moments of nudity. It still always bothered her a bit why some people took to the beast blood differently. Some torn out of their clothing and could never transform back, even attacking those they should have recognized. It was something that worried her, but she placed her trust in Hircine to keep her mentally sharp and a worthy hunter. Mindless prey was no challenge.  
She spent a bit more time drying off as best she could, not wanting to risk a fire, but feeling the chill in the air even more as she was closer to Windhelm. Once dried off enough, she headed back out. The sun was finally getting lower, so she should get there with perfect timing. As she pushed on she started to really plan out how she would execute the woman. It would probably be best just to slip over the wall, instead of using the gate pretending to be a commoner. Faster that way. She could remain in the red and black leather and not have to fumble with any extra steps. She could then easily pick the lock to slip inside, and find where the woman was sleeping. Remembering the lotus extract, she pulled the blade back out, covering it with the other bottle of liquid. A nice touch to their deaths.  
With the skies now dark and the city walls before her, she found a spot that was easily climbed with no guards patrolling nearby. As she reached the top, she continued to walk along the wall until finding a spot to drop down to without raising any suspicion. Dropping down into the shadows and staying still for a long time, she watches for any patrols. There is one guard where she needs to go, but he seems to be heading away down another alleyway. As she turns the corner though, there is another guard who was standing right on the other side as her. It’s doubtful he knows she’s there though, even standing next to people she had perfected melding into the shadows.  
The guard leans out around the wall slightly, not looking at her, but she has a feeling like he knows she’s there. She hesitates to pull her dagger, not wanting to waste the poison on it, but not sure how else to kill him if needed to. There is one of the elven daggers stashed in her boot, that may work. She starts slowly reaching down towards her boot, ready to slit his throat and hide his body in the shadows.  
“Psst.” His voice makes her body freeze. “I know who you are.” He whispers. She can feel her heart start to beat faster, not sure if he was even speaking to her, but seeing no one else around. She really didn’t want to risk killing this guard in the somewhat open area.  
“Hail Sithis.” He whispers, before turning and walking after the other guard that had walked down the alleyway before. Perhaps there is luck on her side tonight she thinks as she lets out the breath she had been holding. Watching as he disappears, she can feel herself relax, and the entire street is now empty. Making her way cautiously to the dark house down the little walkway she stands off to the side of the door, checking once more around her as she deftly picks the lock and slips inside. The few dim candles still burning are plenty of light to make way through the house. Even breathing can be heard coming from different rooms, so she makes her way to the first one. Not the target, an older woman that doesn’t fit the description. The second room is more fruitful, this one is definitely her. She slips behind the sleeping body, and in one motion covers her mouth with a hand while she brings the knife point up to her back.  
“A gift from Muiri.” She whispers into her ear as the dagger slides into her flesh like it was butter, finding its way between the ribs in her back, and resting inside her heart. The woman’s eyes open briefly before they slowly close again. She looks as she did while sleeping, yet there is no breath anymore. She watches the body for movement for a moment before slipping back out of the house, cracking the door to check the street before stepping out. Back to the wall, up and over, and into the wilds her feet carry her. As soon as there’s enough distance between her and any possibly prying eyes, she uses the spell to take her back to Markarth. This time there is no waiting for dawn, but instead she sneaks into the shop and finds Muiri’s bed in the back. She quietly wakes her, and tells her it is done. She is extremely pleased, and gives more than the agreed upon coin plus a ring.  
After they quietly wrap things up, she departs, and travels again, this time back towards her home. The night is dark, but it is that stillness of time between night and day. When the sky is black, but even the night beasts have fallen silent before the coming dawn. She hurriedly steps inside her house, and leaves some gear behind, while grabbing a few other things, before heading back out. Her feet carry her swiftly toward the black door. There’s almost a favorite path through the forest picked out now. As she reaches the dip in land and the small pool, she pushes aside the big heavy door. Everything is silent inside, and there seems to be no one awake. The large crate is gone as well, and her heart sinks a bit. Did he leave? Where was the Night Mother? What had happened while she was gone? She continues inside, her eyes and ears straining against the still sanctuary, not wanting to lose the Jester again.


	5. Whispers From the Void

Her ears can just barely make out someone whispering somewhere in the sanctuary. Closing her eyes she tries to focus on the direction of its source. Up the stairs, behind the mosaic of Sithis, there’s a dark glow that she wasn’t sure was there before. That was where the quiet voice was coming from, so that was where she headed. She was quiet and slow as she approached, but once up the steps, all she was greeted with was a closed door. Cautiously leaning against the door, she pressed her ear to its cold metal.  
It was Cicero.  
Although his voice sounded upset, it was almost like he was arguing with the Night Mother. Then his voice would shift, back to a sad, apologetic tone, pleading with her. There was no response from her, but there were long silences between Cicero’s ramblings. The man was definitely mad, of that there was no question. Although mad, he seemed absolutely devoted to his role as her Keeper, and was someone she would not want to spurn. The whispers continued, and listening to them offered nothing fruitful, so she turned away from the door and walked slowly back. Although another small room she had not been in before, drew her attention. She walked into the other room, and looked around. It had minimal items in it, hardly looking lived in at all. There were piles of straw on the floor, cobwebs in corners, a small bed pushed against a wall, and a crumbling hole in the wall on the other side of the room, with mushrooms growing in the damp exposed soil. It was not very warm or welcoming compared to the rest of the sanctuary. A small journal on the edge of the unlevel table in the middle of the room drew her attention, and before she could stop herself, it was in her hands and opened.  
It was Cicero’s journal. It was written so long ago. Fifteen years ago, it seemed. It detailed his start within the Dark Brotherhood, his early kills, memories and ghosts of Cheydinhal, and the increasing downfall of his Brotherhood in that land. She was so enthralled, that when the pages ended her eyes searched desperately for more, and settled on another journal left on a box in the corner. They almost seemed to be his only possessions. She quickly opened the next one, devouring the words as fast as she could. More places falling, more people lost, their presence and sanctuaries cut down. He mentions his concern for the Night Mother, and there’s mention of the Listener. This was what she wanted to learn, how the Dark Brotherhood was supposed to really function, who the Listener was, who the Keeper was. She felt as though she was invading a mad man’s mind, a very dangerous thing to do, but she couldn’t stop.  
The story doesn’t improve though, and only speaks of more destruction and loss. The crypt of the Night Mother threatened, and her remains ultimately crated up and put in a cart, just as she had seen twice now. It also appears the Listener was killed as well, burnt alive in the fighting. There are mentions of his kills as well, although not the best track record it seems. He seems a very split person already, wanting to fight, trying to fill contracts, but the toll of watching everything crumble around him must have been immense. It’s no wonder the man is mad. The volume now read, she looks around again for the next one. Spotting the next journal nearby, she feels another pang of guilt at reading them, but can’t stop delving into it. She shouldn’t be going through someone’s private thoughts, especially someone who could snap and attack her, but again her hands move on their own almost.  
The Listener now gone, they’re lost, with no way to communicate with the Night Mother. So they turn to the methods she had seen Astrid doing, going off of rumors and personal pleas. There is no new Listener, and the few remaining members appoint someone called a Keeper, who is totally devoted to the Night Mother’s protection and care. They had chosen Cicero, and he was to complete one final contract. It was a Jester that he killed, and he mentions how he laughed and laughed, even in death, until he was silent. Further on though she finds more solid information. The Night Mother’s corpse has to be kept clean and sanctified, for it acts as a conduit for her to hear the prayers in the void, and tell them to her Listener. Only this Listener can hear the Night Mother, and relay the information to the others. So Cicero’s task is essential to keeping her corpse as a vessel for her voice. He dedicates himself to her, yet seems a bit bitter that she won’t speak to him. He mentions the Jester again, and his laughter. He was honored to know him.  
It ends again, and now she feels desperate to find the next. The fourth journal is spotted and she hungrily flips it open and continues reading. Their sanctuary is falling, and his madness is apparent now. No longer the sane writings of an assassin, now his entries start to contradict themselves. Mad at the silence, then claiming the silence is love. One of the Brothers claims to be the Listener, yet Cicero says he does not speak the binding words, and he has him killed. That entry assures her that she should not lie to the man, for there is more at work here than a simple title. He continues on, there were only three of them left. The silence in his head is filled with the laughter of the Jester, and he views it as a gift from the Night Mother. He can’t hear her voice, but she has gifted him the laughter as a companion, and he welcomes it, embraces it, becomes it.  
The entries devolve into mad scribbles. Losing another member, being abandoned, months with what seems like no food, pleading with the Night Mother, driven mad by the solitude and the silence. He claims he is dead, then claims he is alive, but reborn as the Jester, as the Fool of Hearts. Speaking of the laughter that plagues his mind as though it was his only friend. The mad scribbles end after a while. Then on the next page, there’s an eight year gap in his entries. It seems he has decided to leave, yet the entries are written in rhymes and madness. It ends there and she starts to search his room again. So focused that she didn’t notice the man standing in the doorway until his voice startled her.  
“The kindly stranger, no no no, that’s not right, Shade! Shade is in my room. Why are you in Cicero’s room?” He had been watching her curiously flip through his journals. He wasn’t horribly upset, unless she was spying on him, then he’d hate to have to hurt her. A malicious smile spread on his face thinking about how long it had been since he put blade to flesh, also enjoying the look of panic in her eyes as she faced him. She was pretty when she was flustered.  
Shade’s heart caught in her throat and she had spun around so fast she knocked a cup from the table. She lurched awkwardly after the cup and grabbed it with shaking hands, trying to place it back on the table while looking at Cicero. His intent stare was extremely unnerving, and her guilty conscience wasn’t helping.  
“Cicero!” She stammered, not sure what to even say to him. Her mind went suddenly blank and it was hard to find words. “I… Uh, that is...”  
He closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, and was suddenly an unstable imposing figure standing very close to her. For the first time in what seemed like forever, she felt fear creeping into the back of her mind.  
“You weren't stealing anything, were you, sister?” His voice was low and taunting, still threatening sounding with his odd way of speaking with laughter behind his words. Finally her brain snapped out of its fog, and she managed to speak.  
“To do so would invoke the wrath of Sithis. I was not stealing from you, nor would I ever, Cicero.” She kept her voice as steady as she could, and tried to meet his piercing eyes. His expression softened a bit, and he laughed at the response. His body seemed to relax as well, and it was like the dark aura of death simply dissipated from around him. “I came looking for you, to ask you about the Night Mother, but you weren’t here. Were you talking to her in the other room?” She was hoping the change in topics would help move past the reading of his journals.  
“Yes I was, but she won’t talk to poor Cicero, no, she won’t talk to anyone!” His voice picked up with the last few words, seemingly frustrated. “Years now, Cicero cleans her, oils her, keeps away the pests, protects her, but still she refuses to speak.” He stepped over to a chair and sat down, an exaggerated pout on his face. She followed suit and sat across the table from him.  
“Do you think she will speak soon? Now that she’s moved?” She was happy the change in topic seemed to work, but she also genuinely wanted to learn all she could.  
“She must speak to someone eventually! And when she does, then we will see, then that traitor, that imposter, she will see…” He trailed off, but he didn’t even try to cover his hatred for Astrid. He was not happy with how she was running things here. It was a mockery of everything the Dark Brotherhood stood for.  
“It would be good to do things the proper way, the way they should be here. I hope she speaks soon too, so things can go back to how they should be.” Shade was quick to show her support for the Night Mother, and tradition, making it clear to Cicero that she also didn’t approve of Astrid’s methods either.  
He smiles across the table at her, his face less manic, if only for a moment. He liked this one, and felt like she would be trustworthy. It would be nice to have one person here that wanted to see the Night Mother as the leader again. Shade continues to ask him for all the little tidbits of information he has about the Night Mother, the Keeper, the Listener, and even The Dread Father Sithis. They talk for what seems to be hours, and they both seem happy to converse and share each other’s company. Neither of them bring up his journals, much to Shade’s relief. He was curious why she was reading them, but didn’t feel like getting her all worked up again. It felt really good to just sit with someone and talk like this. Suddenly the conversation ends though, when Astrid’s name comes up and he feels raw anger for a moment. His voice becomes menacing as he growls about the traitor and how she shall be judged harshly by Sithis. Now they’re both silent, and aware of the stirring of other people moving about and waking in the sanctuary.  
Shade stands up, and tells him that she still has to turn in a contract to Astrid, but that she would return and they could continue talking about the Night Mother. He’s sad at the thought of her leaving, but his expression is happy and merry at her promise to return. She thinks the man is unreadable, yet his face expresses his emotions constantly. He’s somewhat tiring to try to understand and follow, yet it was enjoyable to talk to him.  
As she leaves his room, she can see into the room that he was in previously. The Night Mother’s heavy metal casket was surrounded with a few candles and a couple flowers, and the room smelled of aromatic oils. Once done speaking to Astrid, she decided she would ask Cicero to show her around in there, and see if she had any flowers he might want to add to the shrine. She continues on her way towards the entrance, where Astrid usually was loafing about. Her days were indeed numbered, and they were slowly ticking away. She was excited at the thought of sending her soul to Sithis and possibly pleasing the Night Mother as well. ‘I’m sure she doesn’t appreciate a false leader in her Brotherhood.’ She mused to herself.  
Astrid is ahead of her, up the stairs, and as she approaches, she motions for her to come closer and speaks in hushed tones. Astrid quietly tells her how Cicero has been locking himself in the Night Mother’s chambers and speaking with someone, conspiring against the whole group. Shade scowls and tries to interrupt and explain the man is just mad and speaking to himself, but she won’t hear it. She’s convinced he’s conspiring against her and her leadership. There’s a look of suspicion on her face, the fear of being called out on her heresy possibly. Shade hoped she felt the cold fingers of fear creeping into the shallow parts of the back of her mind. She shocks her when she just blatantly suggests she hide within the Night Mother’s coffin, to eavesdrop on Cicero. The utter disregard and disrespect is repugnant.  
Before she can really protest though, she’s being pushed back down the steps, Astrid continuously urging her to hide and listen for her, reminding her of the Tenet where she must obey her. How disgusting she is, slithering, vile, wretch of a woman. She reminds her once more that she must obey or face Sithis, pushing her to the base of the stairs, then turns and walks away. Shade can only stand there for a moment, stomach turning at the thought. A vicious snarl spreads on her face as she turns and makes her way back up the stairs, careful to not let Cicero see her enter the Night Mother’s chambers. Her heart is heavy as she approaches the coffin, and positions herself inside, trying to be as respectful as possible to the corpse.  
‘Astrid wants me to spy on him? I’ll play along, then expose her treachery, her forcing me to do this heinous thing. I’ll make her look like an idiot, consumed with paranoia and envy, unfit to lead. I will make her regret this.’ Shade’s thoughts were fuming at her. She would make her pay for this, and exposing her to Cicero would hopefully gain his trust and cement his loyalty if she were to make a mockery of Astrid, despite having to be inside the Night Mother’s coffin.  
“I’m sorry dear Mother, I do not do this of my own choice. Please forgive me.” She whispers a small prayer to her corpse, but falls silent as she hears the door to the room shut. Cicero’s voice breaks out and he is simply mumbling to the Night Mother. He talks of a plan, and the others, and asks if she’s spoken to anyone. He seems sad, like he is failing her, but it quickly turns to him upset that she won’t speak, before he is back to sounding defeated and apologetic. While she listens, with a tug in her heart, to his emotional pleas, there’s suddenly an odd feeling, and her skin prickles as she hears another voice.  
“Poor Cicero. Dear Cicero. Such a humble servant. But he will never hear my voice. For he is not the Listener.” The voice is like wind through the trees on a moonless night. It swims in her head and calms her. Was this the voice of the Night Mother? Cicero continues to rant outside to himself. Asking in frustration how he will protect her if she will not speak. Again, there is the whispered voice in her head, answering Cicero’s pleas.  
“Oh, but I will speak. I will speak to you. For you are the one.” She swears she can make out the Night Mothers face in the darkness when she can hear the voice. This had to be her voice, this had to be the Night Mother speaking, she was sure of it.  
“Yes, you. You who shares my iron tomb, who warms my ancient bones. I give you this task, journey to Volunruud. Speak with Amaund Motierre.” She seems to know Shade’s thoughts in her head and answers them in her long whispering voice. Cicero continues to lament his failure to the Night Mother, his failure to find the Listener. ‘Poor Cicero, if only I could tell him. He deserves to know he’s doing just as he should.’ She thought to herself, almost as a way of speaking back to the Night Mother as well.  
“Tell Cicero the time has come. Tell him the words he has been waiting for, all these years. Darkness rises when silence dies.” Again, it’s like she reads her thoughts and responds. She commits the words to memory, her mind trying to grasp at what has just happened. Was this really happening? She has no time to think and process what just happened though, and her heart freezes as the heavy door to the casket is suddenly opened. She turns to see Cicero, his face one of complete wide eyed shock, that quickly becomes red and enraged. There’s no chance to speak before he is yelling at her.  
“What!? What Treachery! Defiler! Debaser and Defiler! You have violated the sanctity of the Night Mother’s coffin! Explain yourself!” His arms flail as he speaks, and his eyes are wild as they glare at the sneaky little elf wedged in the Night Mother’s coffin. His teeth are gritted and bared, the smile long gone from his face this time. There are no rational thoughts, and his mind is quickly thinking of painting the room with her blood. How dare she violate the Night Mother like this!  
“SPEAK WORM!” His high pitched demand was the last warning he would give before slicing her skin into long ribbons.  
“The Night Mother spoke to me! She told me I was the one!” Shade pleaded to him, desperate to explain herself to him. She wants to tell him everything, that this was all Astrid’s plan, and not her own, explain to him that she was going to help him, but the look of rage and murderous intent on his face just scatters her thoughts. He looked ready to kill her.  
“She spoke, to you? More treachery! More trickery and deceit! You lie! The Night Mother speaks only to the Listener! And there is… NO… LISTENER!!” His pitch climbs higher, and he’s fuming. His hand starts to move to his dagger, his mind screaming at him. This was why he couldn’t trust anyone. This was why he shouldn’t let anyone close to him.  
“WAIT!” Shade pleads to him, her mind thinking of the other member that lied and was killed, noticing his hand gripping his dagger. She suddenly remembered the words the Night Mother told her. The only hope to convince him. “She said to tell you, darkness rises when silence dies.” She put her faith in the Night Mother, in the voice in her head, and now she could only wait. The rage and fire in his eyes drained from his face though, and he seems to struggle with what she’s just told him.  
“She said that? She said THOSE words… to you? Darkness rises when silence dies?” There’s still anger in his voice, but his face goes blank in shock. The thoughts of skinning her alive and of her betrayal are suddenly gone from his head. “But those are the words. The binding words. Written in the Keeping tomes. The signal so I would know. Mother’s only way of talking to sweet Cicero.” He trailed off a bit, his thoughts going deep inside his mind. Everything was a great whirlwind in his mind. There was a new Listener, finally, he had done it, he had helped mother find the Listener. His eyes suddenly snapped back to Shade.  
“Then… it is true! She is back! Our Lady is back!” He started to break into one of his happy little dances. “She has chosen a Listener! She has chosen you! Ha ha ha! All hail the Listener!” He was absolutely ecstatic, and didn’t really care that she had violated the Night Mother’s casket. If she was mad, she could tell her herself. His near permanent smile was back on his lips, and his voice was back to it’s sing song giddiness. He had done his job, and he had done well. How many years did he spend, did he sacrifice for her? It was all finally worth something. Finally, there wouldn’t be any more thoughts of him failing her. There was a new Listener, finally.  
Shade opened her mouth to start to explain to Cicero the rest of what needed to be said, but just before she could speak, Astrid came bursting into the room, screaming about ending Cicero’s plans and making an absolute fool of herself. She turned to Shade, expressing concern that she was alright, then demanded that the traitor Cicero was conspiring with to show themselves. What a fool she was. Again, before Shade can speak, Cicero immediately defends himself, stating he was only speaking to the Night Mother, and that she didn’t speak to him, but that she did speak to her, gesturing towards Shade, who was still standing in front of the coffin trying to think of what to even say. He seemed delighted to tell everyone that she was the Listener, and was absolutely joyous.  
Astrid didn’t believe either of them, and called it all lunacy. She would understand, soon enough, she would be made to understand. Cicero was still euphoric and danced about as he simply repeated that it was true, and that she was the Listener, that there was a Listener again. The silence truly was broken, and she could see the panic on Astrid’s face as she suddenly realized what was happening. She turned her attention to Shade again, asking if she really was alright, and expressing her concern when she heard the yelling, knowing she had been discovered and wanting to protect her. She asked again, with dismissive disdain what Cicero was going on about. Sucking up to her while also disrespecting Cicero.  
“It’s true. The Night Mother spoke to me and said I was the one. She is the one who named me as the Listener.” She stared her down, her voice authoritative and as commanding as she could make it. She enjoyed the mixed looks of anxiety and fear along with anger, contempt and jealousy on Astrid’s face.  
“So he wasn’t talking to anyone else, just the Night Mother, and she spoke to you, just now, making you the Listener?” Her words were weak. She had to have known that her grasp and control of this sanctuary was soon going to be taken from her. Taken by the new Listener, as was the right way the Dark Brotherhood should operate. No more shady deals made simply for coin. “So, what did she say? To you?”  
“I am to speak to Amaund Motierre in Volunruud.” Again, she says this as commanding as she can to her anxious face.  
“I have no idea who that is. But I know where Volunruud is.” She was trying to maintain herself, but her face was showing her fear.  
“So, then that will be my next contact?” It was stated more than asked, almost giving her the chance to step aside and hand over leadership of the Dark Brotherhood.  
“What? No no, you still take your orders from me. The Night Mother may have spoken to you, but I am still the leader of this family. I will not have my authority dismissed so easily. I… need to think on all of this. Go see Nazir, he’s got your next target lined up.” And with that she turned and left, not offering a chance to discuss things further.  
The sheer audacity of this cur. She would make sure that she suffered greatly when her end came. She turned to Cicero, who was staring in awe at the Night Mother’s corpse, the look of sheer joy and satisfaction on his face.  
“You are the Listener! You are the Listener!” He said in that almost singing voice as he realized she was staring at him. “I have served Mother well, I have!” He felt so gratified, euphoric in his duties being done well. Content that his devotion and work had paid off. He had kept her safe and kept her body a vessel for so long.  
“You served very well Cicero. I’m certain she is happy with you.” She looked at him and smiled. She had a glimpse of how important this was, and how obsessed and consumed he had become. She wanted to praise him and let him truly bask in this moment. He deserved the happiness she could see on his face. Before she can react, he is suddenly in front of her, and his arms are around her for a third time. This time she returns his hug, happy to give him so much joy. After hearing the Night Mother’s voice, she was resolute in her beliefs now. For her to speak to her, then Sithis truly is watching us, along with her, and there’s now a strong attachment to the one appointed as her Keeper. Anyone as devoted to her as he is, understands things the same as she now did, mad or not. It is during this lingering hug, that a silent pledge of her life to the service of the Void, to Sithis, to the Night Mother, and to the Keeper. She would give my life protecting her remains, and protecting her Keeper. The members of this Brotherhood will soon see the error in their ways. This will indeed be her Dark Brotherhood, devoted to the Night Mother’s wishes. Soon.  
“Do I have to let you go now?” Cicero sadly asked. He knew from previous hugs that she seemed to dislike them. ‘Foolish Cicero, you overreacted again and she’s going to hate you. The Listener is going to hate you, you stupid fool.’ His thoughts were never kind to him. He was the lowly Keeper, who they all left with a corpse. An important corpse, but they still didn’t want his help. The people here were just as unwanting of him. No one wanted Cicero. It had been so long since he had spoken with someone who wanted to listen. So long since he felt warm skin that wasn’t dead. So long since he felt wanted or useful. He was committed to the Night Mother, but he often felt the weight of failure. Everything was different when he hugged her though. She was warm, and soft, and spoke to him with kindness. Now he was going to ruin it by holding her again and making her upset at him again.  
She didn’t yell, or say anything though. Instead she responded by reaching her arms around him more, squeezing him tightly. She also thought it had felt good to feel physical closeness with someone, along with sharing an understanding with someone else. She had felt so alone for so long, that it simply felt good to be hugged. “You don’t have to, not yet.” Everything had been such a crashing storm just moments ago, and she knew as soon as she left this room there would be more chaos to come. This felt like the calm center of the storm, and she just wanted to hold on to it for just a moment more. His arms felt so protective of her, and the rise and fall of his chest was so calming.  
“I should probably go though.” She let out a disappointed sigh. Slowly moving her arms off of him, pushing back as she did so. He did the same, reluctantly, yet his hands lingered on her upper arms and he moved his face closer to hers. She could feel the tips of her ears suddenly heating up, and there was a warmth in her cheeks.  
“You can hold Cicero whenever you need to. Cicero lives to serve, oh great Listener.” He whispered the offer to her, excited to offer himself to her. “Anything you may need, I am at your service.” He let go of her arms, not liking the somber expression on her face, and performed an over exaggerated bow, looking back up with an expectant smile.  
“Thank you Cicero.” She smiled at his elaborate expressions, but it seemed very genuine and sincere. “Although it’s not necessary. It looks like I must go deal with Astrid and find out what stupid errand I must do for Nazir that is more important than the Night Mother’s wishes. I fear she may not be completely safe from Astrid, so please protect her.” It was hard to hide the hatred in her voice towards Astrid.  
Cicero scowled at their names. “I can help the Listener with anything she may be planning to do.” He said, giving a knowing look and a malicious smile. Oh how he would delight in carving the skin off of the pretender. How he wanted to just stab at her repeatedly.  
“Stay here and be cautious. Trust no one and be careful. For now I want to see what happens next before I do anything. Things like this can’t be rushed. Soon I’ll have you help me with some… adjustments.” She says it all in hushed tones. He may be regarded as simple, insane, or broken, but there is a wit that rivals his madness, and he instantly understands. The look on his face makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up, and she is extremely happy he is on her side.  
She nods to him, and heads off down towards where Nazir usually was. Cicero slowly moves to a bench by the wall and slumps himself down. He had done what was starting to feel like the impossible, he had helped the Night Mother find the Listener. He had been a good Keeper. The Dark Brotherhood had a Listener once more. He had a Listener. He wouldn’t let her come to harm. He felt like he was ripping apart at his very seams. He was afraid to leave the Night Mother anywhere Astrid could damage her, but he also wanted to protect the Listener. He would gladly give his life to protect her, because she was far more important than lowly Cicero, but then who would tend the Night Mother’s body? He didn’t really know what to do, but he stayed behind because she had told him to.  
Shade approached Nazir to ask about the contract, but she’s numb when she talks to him, and hardly hears what he tells her. Some Orc bard and some vampire working a lumber mill. She nods and heads back towards Astrid. As she passes the big stained glass depiction of Sithis, she can’t hear Cicero’s excited voice anymore and she worries for a moment why he’s so quiet. This was such a crazy turn of fate, but she’s excited for it, and happy to have someone to share it with. She continues on, searching for Astrid as she leaves. She’s at her table that often holds her maps and plans.  
“When I return from these, I will be going to the contact told to me by the Night Mother, so I expect everything to be in order.” She says it as she passes her, not giving her a chance to reply. Although she does catch her look of anger and hatred as she leaves. ‘Let her hate me, for she will regret these days soon enough.’


	6. A Rush of Death

Stepping out into the light of day, she hurriedly made her way back towards her home. Hopefully she could catch Rayya before heading out again. Taking the familiar path through the forest, she finds herself running in excitement. She runs up to the door, almost crashing inside, and starts to hurriedly collect items for these two simple menial killings. She checks her potions, food, arrows and daggers and poisons, all while her mind races and her heart pounds with excitement. Finally, something that brings joy, that gives meaning, that lets her be someone she actually wants to be. This Dragonborn felt more like a curse, a great burden, but she would still continue to protect a Skyrim that she would quietly be shaping with her own hands from the shadows. She would ignore these squabbling Nords and build Skyrim up for the outcast, the forgotten, and the used.  
Footsteps can be heard outside the house, and she stepped outside to greet Rayya as she walked up the hill. Rayya gave her a suspicious look, not used to seeing the small Bosmer so worked up. She had a proposition for her, and hoped she would accept it. She walked right up to Rayya and stuffed a leather pouch into her hands.  
“Here is all I have right now. I will have plenty more when I return. I wish for you to act as my steward, and this money should be plenty to furnish the house enough for you to stay in it comfortably. Use it as you see fit. I am not certain how long I will be gone, but it will be for many days at least. I am trusting you with this, but only if you accept.” She then stared at her anxiously, hoping the offer was accepted.  
“Of course, Shade. You have been a great friend to me, and I would be honored to serve as not only your housecarl, but as your steward as well.” She smiled and grabbed Shade’s arm as a way to agree to the deal.  
Sighing in relief, and giving her a quick thank you, she then headed off into the forest. Rayya would keep one thing off her mind, and there would be one less worry in her thoughts having someone watching the house. The Redguard woman was smarter than most people gave her credit for, and deadly with her curved blades. They had also grown closer due to them both being outsiders that were looked down on by these Nords, but it was more than that. She seemed to know what Shade was up to, yet seemed to agree and even protect those secrets. She also didn’t just follow out of fear of her being the Dragonborn. Having a trustworthy person guarding the house would be greatly appreciated in the days to come.  
Her feet pounded through the forest yet again. She knew where the one contract was. She had actually bought lumber from them before, and knew who they were. The beast blood gave her certain gifts that didn’t require her to transform, and she could smell the death on their undead skin when they had first met. They seemed to just want to live peacefully, but they were her task now, and she wouldn’t let them keep her from the next mission. The thought of them wandering about in the sunlight bothered her a bit, but she didn’t have time to dissect the lore of Vampires. Just as there were many differing ways Hircine could bless his hunters, she was sure there were many different facets to the vampire curse.  
The mill slowly became visible in the distance, and her mind was going over all the different ways she could get this over with quickly. It was about mid day, but she hadn’t seen any other travelers or guard patrols. Nazir had said the male was the target, but had mentioned that the female might also have to be taken care of.She simplyI viewed this as permission to take out both of them, any excuse really to slay the blood drinkers. They always left her with a poor impression, no matter how many were met in her travels.  
They were both together, outside, just off into the forest. They were in the perfect spot for her to dispatch and hide the bodies from any curious people that might stop by. Silently pulling her bow off her back, she knocked an arrow. This would be so simple. She had been raised with a bow in hand, and it was like an extension of her own body. There was no time to toy around, so an arrow to the neck would suffice. She drew back and let the arrow fly, as simple and fluid as breathing, and had another arrow knocked and drawn before the female even knew what had happened. Another arrow from the forest and the female was now also laying on the ground, sputtering, choking on her own vile blood, dying next to the male. Hert and Hern, now dead and gone.  
She waited just a bit, then approached the bodies. They were indeed dead, yet sometimes it was hard to tell with their type. They always had the smell of death, and their flesh was always cold. A quick kick to them both, no movement. So she then threw some nearby debri over their bodies and started the trek North, to Morthal. On to the next target, then back to the sanctuary, and then, she would start the take over. The image of Astrid’s face comes into her mind, and she can imagine plunging a dagger into her chest. Her blood was soon boiling with excitement, and so she let herself indulge. Instead of using magic to travel across the land, she whispers that familiar prayer and offers herself to Hircine before transforming. It was day time, and there was always risk involved, but nothing could stop her at this moment. She could stick to the wilds and let herself run loose, avoiding roads and buildings.  
Dropping to all fours, she ran across the land, panting in time to her long strides, taking in the scents and views as they blurred past her. Her heart beat with a fury that couldn’t be contained, and she ripped into any creature that caught her attention. As her large black form raced across one area, she spotted a large bear and pounced on it, killing it in a matter of moments, but was started by a large fireball exploding just feet in front of her. Whipping her head in the direction of its source, she saw them.  
Thalmor. Gaudy, pompous Thalmor. Three of them, one in robes, the magic still dancing between his fingers, the other two in armor, approaching fast. This was an added surprise she would relish in. Turning her full intense savagery to them, she leaped at the closest one and swung a long arm at him. He dodged, but just barely, and he also missed his swing back at her. She raised her other arm, as if to swing at him again, yet once he focused his attention on it she grabbed him by the back of the head with the other arm. His scream as his skull was crushed caused the other armored Thalmor to slow her approach.  
Reaching out as far as her arm will go, she dropped the now limp body, while staring directly at the second armored Thalmor. The golden armored Altmer pulled her weapon up defensively, keeping level with her head with fear in her eyes. Shade’s focus was shaken as pain seared through her as another fireball ignited up her left leg. All it did was cause her to snarl and lunge at the female in front of. For a moment she gave in to the beast and slashed at her wildly, losing her mind. Gnashing teeth finally met with one of the lightly armored arms, and her teeth could feel the bones crack with the force of her bite. Her sword dropped as her arm fell limply to her side and she let out a sharp cry of pain. A large black furred arm caught the reeling female and the force of the blow sent her into a nearby tree. The beast now turned and faced the final person, his hands launching another fireball in it’s direction. She simply ducked to the right and then closed the gap between them in a few loping strides.  
He was stepping back as fast as he could, not wanting to turn and run, but it seemed he knew he was done for. She stood on her two legs before him, letting her full size tower over him and relished in the terror on his face. An inhuman roar escaped her throat as she grabbed him with her clawed hands, sinking them through his robes and into his flesh. She easily picked his entire body up, bringing his face close to her snarling maw, before putting his whole head in his mouth. His horrified scream was cut short as she bit down and slowly pulled, feeling the tendons and bones separate. She dropped his twitching body and spit his head next to it. Filthy arrogant fools. Her mind briefly thought of the Green Pact of her people, thinking that even if she was in her homeland, she would refuse to eat their flesh. Another reason she had left, and why she was in Skyrim, without a Bosmer name. She simply didn’t agree with everything her people did, yet her questions were met with turned backs instead of answers.  
She didn’t give them any more thought as she turned and ran back through the forest, her mind returned and her thoughts more brooding. Let the animals feast on their bodies. She was soon rushing through the trees, focused back on the target ahead of her. The scent of earth and the dirt between her fingers asshe churned it with every lunge forward was both calming and exhilarating. Running this way, she was faster than any horse she had ever ridden. Every stride, every breath, every stretch of land before her was swallowed in her speed. She was on the way to Morthal, to find and kill Lurbuk, an Orc bard. Then she would tear back to the Brotherhood, and confront Astrid. She wanted to watch her squirm. She wanted to see her lose it all.  
Finally slowing her body down, she started to calm herself more. Morthal was ahead, and she couldn’t just tear through the town as a werewolf. Her body cooled, shrank back to normal, and her mind calmed. She was a bit bloodied still, so she took some time to rub some nearby snow on the bloodied parts to clean it off as best she could. The more she let the adrenaline wear off, the more her leg throbbed, and as she pulled back the leather, she could see the angry scorch marks on her skin. She fished around and grabbed a small but potent potion from a pouch and drank it down, feeling the magical liquid work within to heal the burnt flesh and numb the pain. While sitting though, she decided it would be best to take a few moments to just rest. She was excited, but knew to keep herself in check. She didn’t want to mess anything up now, when everything was so close.  
Heading into the town, the sun now hanging low on the horizon, she walked with purpose towards the Moorside Inn. Opening the door, she went in and sat at a darkened table, watching the tavern. The Orsimer was painful to listen to, and the owner didn’t seem to like him much at all either. At one point in time, she saw him get up and walk back into a room, most likely the one he had paid for, and the owner was sweeping with his back to the rest of the tavern. This was her chance. She dropped low and stayed below the large wood counter as she made her way silently into the bard’s room. He was sitting in a chair, and she easily slipped along the wall until she was like a shadow behind his chair. The Ebon dagger made quick work of stopping his heart, and there wasn’t even time for him to make a sound before she was already backing out of his room. The owner was still going about his business, she she simply slipped out the door and into the streets, with no one even aware of what had happened.  
It was hard to walk slowly back out of the town. Her feet wanted to run, but doing so might attract attention. She had to stay smart, and control herself. Finally losing sight of the buildings behind her, and catching the last few rays of the sun before it slipped below the horizon, she once again let her body shift into its beast form. Her great black form dropped down and devoured the land again, arms and legs pumping like some great Dwemer machine, her breath its fuel. At one point she saw Stormcloak soldiers escorting some poor fool through the night, yet didn’t stop this time. Their panicked cries echoed after her though, and she was sure there would be stories told around a fire tonight of a dark form of a beast streaking through the forest.  
She made excellent time and made it back before she thought she would. Not slowing down, she continued to streak through the forest towards the black door. There was the small pool and the indent in the land, and she swiftly went up to the door, pushing it open and running down the stairs before even thinking. Astrid was nowhere to be seen in the entrance though, and as she came to the large central area, she still saw no one around. Not even Arnbjorn working away in his corner. Her ears picked up voices though, and she made her way to the lower area that was the gathering place to eat and relax. She knew she heard Nazir and the Dunmer, and maybe even vampire, perhaps there were more gathered there.  
As she walked down the steps she could see Nazir, Gabriella, the un-child Babette, and Astrid, with Arnbjorn leading in a corner. She continued on, but slowed to a stop when they all stopped talking and stared at her, Nazir even stood and faced her, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. It takes a moment for her mind to realize the slip up, and she calmed herself as she stood halfway down the steps. Astrid seems the least disturbed, Babette seems a bit disgusted, but Nazir and Gabriella both look a bit uncomfortable as they watch the large panting werewolf transform and shift down to the normal slight frame they know. They should be used to having a werewolf amongst them, but his form is probably different from her own, and he probably doesn’t run around the sanctuary as some great hulking beast either.  
“I’ve completed these contracts.” She said to Nazir as she nonchalantly heads to the bottom of the stairs. He simply nods and hands over the payment. She then turns to Astrid and gives her the most intent stare she can. “I’ll be going to the Night Mother’s contact next. I’ll be leaving first thing tomorrow.” She states it, no hint of a question in her words. She can see contempt on Astrid’s face as she slowly nods, and meets her gaze.  
“Yes, I agree. You’ll go to Volunruud and see this man, and ask what he wants. I don’t know about all this Listener and voices stuff, but we shouldn’t let any opportunities go right now. You’ll make the contact, then report back to me before any further actions are taken, understood?” She was still trying to act as the false leader, still acting as though she had a choice in her leaving. Shae would follow the orders of the Night Mother, whether Astrid said so or not.  
“Of course.” She sneers back at her before turning and leaving. She made her way up the stairs, yet didn’t turn to leave the way she had come. Instead she went towards the Night Mother’s room.


	7. Nightshade and Dragon's Tongue

“That was entertaining.” The voice from the darkened corner was startling and caught her a little off guard. It was Cicero, but it wasn’t his usual joyous voice. He spoke in a deeper tone, with such venom in his voice it made her skin prickle. For as eye catching his clothes and his actions were, seeing him almost invisibly leaning against a wall in the dark with that tone of voice was in utter terrifying contrast. No matter how goofy or how annoying he may appear to others, she had read his journals and knew his capabilities. No matter how he looked or acted, the man was still a skilled and dangerous assassin. Something the others either didn’t realize, or underestimated. Not her though. She was fully committed to Sithis, the Night Mother, and by extension, the Keeper. No one else had proven to be fully trustworthy or sworn to the Tenets.  
“Cicero, I’m sorry you had to see that.” For the first time she was a little worried her beastly form may make someone uncomfortable.  
“Oh! Ha ha ha, no, that was fun! Cicero likes to watch the false leader sweat, and you made everyone else look so nervous! Cicero will always serve the Listener, no matter her form.” He did one of his exaggerated bows, his menacing eyes looking devilish in the dark as he stood back up. An insane smile danced on his lips. She struggled to keep her breathing calm looking at his face. It was like his madness was calling to the beast blood, and she wanted to reach into his mind and feel it, embrace it, understand it more. He seemed to stir a fire inside her that she wasn’t used to controlling.  
“I appreciate you, Cicero, more than I think you know.” As she said this, his smile widened and his eyes grew more intense. “Um, could you… Could you tell me more about the Night Mother now?” She stammered the first thing she could think of to change the subject. Her cheeks felt warm and the tips of her ears were starting to feel like they were on fire. Breaking eye contact, she looked off towards the room that held the Night Mother’s corpse.  
“Oh yes! Of course! I can tell you much of our Mother! Humble Cicero lives to serve.” He stepped away from the wall and they both headed down the hallway. They sat on one of the little benches within the little room, directly in front of the large coffin. His attention was suddenly consumed with sharing everything he knew of the Night Mother, and answering all the questions she had. He really enjoyed having someone listen to him, and actually enjoy all his rambling information. She explained all the books she was able to find and read, but some only had mentions, or popular vague lore stories, or some even contradicted each other, so it was harder to get a solid answer on a lot of things. Rumors and stories told in the dark to scare people were nothing compared to someone who had lived in the group for years. He knew things that were facts, instead of whispers, and he delighted in every little scrap of information he could pull from his mind. Even more so, he enjoyed how her eyes would light up at something new or especially interesting that he knew. She really had lovely features.  
They talked and talked, and he even showed her how he mixed the oils, the ingredients he used, and the incantations he used to keep her body as a vessel for her voice. He mentioned how he liked to leave flowers, bones, and other small things at her coffin, things he thought she would enjoy, and there was a brief look of disappointment as he glanced over to the ground around her. Other than a few candles, a couple old flowers, and a skull, there really wasn’t much of anything there. He hadn’t been able to find much close by and didn’t feel comfortable leaving her for very long to search further. Shade saw his face and sudden silence and let out a happy little gasp before digging around in one of her large pouches. He gave her a puzzled look as she rummaged about.   
Finally finding what she was looking for, she pulled a smaller pouch out and sat it between them. Opening it, she pulled a few flowers of various sizes from its pockets. She pulled some of the more fitting flowers from the pouch and piled them up on the bench. Deathbell and Nightshade were her first thoughts, then she grabbed some thistle and lavender, simply because of their dark colors and properties. Lastly she grabbed some Dragon’s Tongue, almost as her own personal offering. Laying it next to the Nightshade, it felt like it was a symbol of the Night Mother and the Dragonborn joining. Her fate was definitely changed by her. Looking up from the pile of flowers, seeing Cicero’s still puzzled look, she gathered them all together and held them out towards him with both hands.  
“I haven’t seen you leave this place at all, and I gather things while I travel, so I can bring you anything you’d like me to. You said you liked to leave flowers around her coffin, so you can use these for now, until you can pick them yourself.” She felt a little foolish holding flowers out to a crazed assassin. Yet the look of sincere gratitude that softened his face gave her a glance at the man before he was taken by the madness. His smile was genuine instead of stretched and twisted as he carefully took the flowers from her hands, and walked over to the Night Mother.   
Kneeling before her, he separated the flowers and placed them one by one, making small adjustments as he went, arranging them to some formation he found pleasing. She watched him going about it with such quiet reverence it was like seeing something holy. When he had placed about half of them, he paused and looked over his shoulder to her.   
“Would you like to help?” His voice was normal and his face was calm. She moved before giving a thought about it and stood next to him. Slowly and reverently she moved to kneel before the Night Mother, but as her knee touched the ground, she inhaled sharply through gritted teeth. Her leg was still a bit painful and not completely healed, and in that moment she had forgotten it was still injured.   
“I’m fine, just sore.” She quickly said the words in response to Cicero’s face of concern. They were having a somewhat sane and normal moment, and she wanted to stay there with him. His expression didn’t change though, and the pressing look of concern was making her feel a bit uncomfortable. She wasn’t used to anyone worrying about her, and it was odd. Looking away she picked up a flower, a nightshade, and held it in front of her as she surveyed the partially arranged flowers. “Are you putting them in any specific pattern?” She felt his gaze leave her and return to the task in front of him. He seemed to study the flowers again, thinking of his response.  
“I don’t think so. I just like laying them out in a way that might be pretty to her.” He stated as he surveyed his work. Most of the flowers were arranged in a semi circle in front of the coffin, so that if the Night Mother’s corpse could see, she could easily see them laid out before her. A few of the flowers were set on the elevated areas that also held candles, and some were even standing up in a small jug that was set there. Shade then followed his lead and placed the nightshade between a deathbell and a thistle, tilting it to face the coffin best. She looked back at him and he smiled, seeming pleased at the placement. There really wasn’t much of a method to how he laid them out, so she didn’t feel as though she would mess up anything he was doing. They sat in silence and continued to simply place flowers in front of the Night Mother until she had the last two flowers set aside.   
She had saved one nightshade and one dragon's tongue and picked them up together. Cicero watched curiously as she placed them side by side at the very front of the shrine like area. She looked at him after placing them, not sure how to explain.   
“I just feel like… these two flowers represent me and the Night Mother.” The explanation seemed to just make him more interested in its meaning, and he lifted an eyebrow in response. “I haven’t really told anyone here, and I suspect some of them may know, but I’m the one known as Dragonborn. That’s why I feel like the nightshade is the Night Mother, and I’m the dragon’s tongue. Just as my fate is tied to the dragons, I feel like it’s also tied to the Night Mother now.” She felt a bit silly comparing herself to a flower, and the words weren’t making any sense.  
Cicero looked back to the two flowers she had placed last. The dark purple and black nightshade petals laying next to the bright golden petals of the dragon’s tongue. He looked back at Shade, his face soft. “I like it. They’re both so pretty.” He approved of the odd explanation, and her admission of being the Dragonborn wasn’t very shocking. He had suspected it after she had stopped and helped him on the road, after asking a few guards and innkeepers who the Bosmer in golden armor was. She was the Listener, and that’s all that mattered to him. He found himself staring at her flustered face again, marveling at how such a special person was the Listener. His Listener. He would give his life for this one. Nothing would come to harm her, he would make sure of that.  
Shade could feel his eyes staring at her, his face soft and calm. He seemed so kind and sweet in that moment, the man behind the jester. She was finding these small moments of sanity leaving her wanting for more. Maybe if he had someone to see him and be there for him, he could come back from those years of solitude and loneliness. She realized she had been staring back at him, looking over his features. He wasn’t that bad looking for an imperial. His pale skin and red hair complimented each other, with the few little freckles across his nose being it’s only markings. His sharp nose and brow were also well fitting to his face, and his square chin complimented his always smiling lips.  
She felt her cheeks warm and suddenly couldn’t keep looking into his eyes. As she looked away, though, she felt a yawn take over and was suddenly aware of what time it was and how tired she really was. She had come back to the sanctuary right after the two assassinations, not stopping to rest. How long had it been since she had last slept? She felt herself yawn again, unable to stop it since she was thinking of how tired she was. It had been awhile since she had eaten as well, hearing her stomach growl and realizing the last thing she consumed was the wild animals she had come across earlier that day. She had been pushing non stop, and the calm moment in the warm room was allowing her body to catch up and demand its needs.  
“I need to eat and get some sleep, Cicero. I’ll be meeting with the Night Mother’s contact tomorrow, and I don’t think I can keep awake much longer.” She was going to excuse herself, eat a few things and find one of the beds she was told she could sleep in. Before she could continue on though, Cicero was standing up, grabbing her by the hands and pulling her up with him. He led her excitedly to the table and gently pushed her back into a chair.  
“Cicero would be happy to serve! I can make you something to eat and you can sleep right up here! I can keep you safe while you sleep, and wake you whenever you’d like me to!” He was excited at the thought of being of use to her. He stared at her expectantly, wanting her approval. The shock on her face melted into a smile as she simply nodded to him. He quickly went about gathering a few items, the best that he could find, quickly working over a cooking pot, and happily preparing something for her to eat. He wanted it to be as good and as fast as he could, so he put in some roasted horker meat from earlier that day, some small diced potatoes, some carrots, and lastly some diced leeks for their flavor. He got it directly over the fire so it would heat as fast as possible. He didn’t want to chat and get distracted, and she seemed content to quietly watch him cook. He found a small loaf of bread and set it on top of the pot, so it would be warm.   
Some warm cooked food was actually sounding better than the hunk of stale bread, salted meat, and chunk of cheese Shade would have probably fed herself. She couldn’t argue with his logic either, and felt it smart to sleep with someone watching out for her. The more she thought about it, the more sleeping here with Astrid and her lapdog made her a bit nervous. Plus seeing the reactions from some of them seeing her as a werewolf earlier reminded her of how people viewed that which they didn’t understand, with fear and violence. Cicero was oddly easy to trust though, showing respect and protective nature towards her since she spoke the words that confirmed her as Listener.   
Before much time at all, Cicero was setting a steaming bowl of soup and some warm bread in front of her. It was a good mix of vegetables with some cooked meat chopped up and tossed in. She saw him putting the bread on the lid of the pot while the soup cooked, and understood why now, picking up the warm soft loaf. She hungrily started to devour the food as soon as it was in front of her, without much thought for anything else. The hot food was so satisfying, and she had the bowl almost completely eaten before she realized Cicero was sitting across from her, simply watching her devour what he had made.   
“Thank you Cicero. It’s wonderful.” She said around a bite of bread, feeling rude for not thanking him earlier. “I guess I was hungrier than I thought. Why aren’t you eating though? Aren’t you hungry?” She felt odd eating by herself while he just looked on.   
“Cicero’s hunger doesn’t matter, I can eat later. You need to eat and rest though.” He was surprised at the question, and answered as though she should have known this already. She was the Listener, the highest ranking person in the entire Brotherhood. Her needs came before lowly Cicero.   
“Well, I think I’d like another bowl, but I’d like you to eat with me. It makes me a little uncomfortable to eat while you don’t.” She tried to explain it so he might eat as well. It was a bit weird to eat in front of someone. Maybe she had just been by herself for a bit too long, but it felt bad to eat his food in front of him. “Especially since you made it.” She couldn’t remember the last time someone else had cooked for her, and the thought was really nice.   
“If that is what you’d like, then I will eat with you!” He was up and grabbing the bowl from her in an instant. He quickly refilled her bowl and sat it back in front of her before scooping himself a bowl and sitting down himself. It felt odd for her to request he eat with her, but he would do whatever she wished. Besides, he was feeling quite hungry as well, and couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten. He often forgot to eat, his mind always on other things.   
It felt a lot better to share a meal with someone than Shade thought it would, and she found her mind wandering a bit. She ate the second bowl much slower, savoring the flavors and paying more attention to the ingredients. She asked about each ingredient as she came to it, and he shared with her interesting little things. He didn’t actually like leeks unless they were chopped up in a stew or soup. He also got really good at using carrots in everything, since he had lived almost entirely off of carrots for three whole months. He talked about some of the dishes his fellow members had made for him and how he could never get them the same as when they had made them. He trailed off a little bit, his eyes showing he was somewhere in his memories. She shifted in her chair, not really sure what to say.  
He was suddenly back to his jovial self, seeing her bowl empty and shifting in her chair. He had thought about the loss of everyone he had once known, and had neglected her and made her uneasy. “Oh! But you are tired! You aren’t interested in the stories of poor Cicero!” He was up and grabbing her hands again, this time pulling her up and into the other room. The room that had been empty just days ago, yet it seemed like a lifetime ago. The room where she had read his journals as he watched.   
Shade could feel her heart beating faster, and her cheeks feeling warm. She knew he was not taking her to his bed to share it with her, but she couldn’t stop her mind from thinking those thoughts. She had not shared a bed with anyone since she was just a naive youth, and had only made stupid mistakes that hardened her heart long ago. It was not a subject she thought of. Yet here she was, getting flustered because some insane assassin was dragging her towards his bed so she could sleep while he stood guard. He was wearing the clothes of a jester, yet she felt like the fool.  
As soon as they were next to the bed he spun around to face her and grabbed her by the shoulders. Pushing her back, she sat down and he leaned forward, his face suddenly very close to her own.   
“You sleep, while Cicero stands guard. Then when morning comes I’ll wake you before the rest get up.” He smiled, then did an eccentric bow before turning and walking out. He disappeared from her view for just a moment before returning with a chair. He sat the chair in the entryway to the room and proceeded to sit down with his back mostly to her. She was still a bit flustered, but feeling the thick furs beneath her and the softness of the bed, her mind went back to how tired she really was. She slipped her boots off, and then her gloves. It would be a bit uncomfortable to sleep in the red and black leather, but she didn’t really have a choice and didn’t want to strip down to her under clothes. The room was cold and a bit damp feeling, so she slid under the furs and curled up.  
She laid her head down on the small pillow. The bed smelled of him, a pleasant mix of skin and herbs and oils. She couldn’t help pushing her face into the pillow, breathing it in. Her stomach full and her body warming under the furs, it was easy to close her eyes and slip into sleep. It didn’t take long to fall asleep, and she was soon lost to her dreams. Once Cicero had heard her breathing even out, he found himself watching her sleeping form. She was even pretty while she slept, and he felt happy she was letting him serve her. He would not let his Listener die, he would not let his Night Mother down.


	8. The Appetite of a Wolf

There were no dreams though, no nightmares, no visions. She slept as though she had died and traveled to the void. She couldn't feel her body tossing and turning, fighting the urge to get up and hunt the forests at night. It was as though the wolf inside was also able to finally rest. There were only two times her mind came out of the heavy fog of sleep, both times woken by a voice. It had been Cicero muttering in the dark to himself that had stirred her, yet she felt as though she really could trust the man, and quickly fell back to sleep knowing he was there standing guard. He was loyal to the Night Mother and Sithis, and he knew the importance of her position. She doubted he would ever betray her, because doing so would betray everything he believed in. Her body really needed the rest, and she mentally scolded herself a bit for pushing it so hard. This was not a time to exhaust oneself. She had to keep her mind sharp, and her body ready to fight. She needed to start living as though she could be attacked at any time. Letting her guard down wouldn't be an option until control was seized.  
She could feel her mind slowly waking, coming out of the restful calm sleep. She was regaining the ability to think and plan, and there was something else. An odd sensation she just couldn’t quite place, but it felt amazing whatever it was. She woke a bit more, stretching as she yawned, feeling all the tender spots in her arms and legs. Well, only one leg actually, which confused her still sleep muddled mind. That was the odd sensation she had felt, the feeling of cool relief on her still seared leg. Maybe the potion was better than she thought, or she was just lucky and it healed faster than she thought it would, but she couldn't grasp the reason. Just then came an even better sensation though, and this was more like the feeling she had experienced before. It felt so soothing, so soft, and a low satisfied rumble escaped her chest. If only the rest of her sore aching body could feel as good as her lower leg. It was almost as if hands were spreading the relief across her skin.  
With sudden realization, she sat up. It was indeed hands that were felt on her leg. Cicero had moved his chair to be next to the bed. The leather that was on her left leg was rolled up, and his hands were gently rubbing her bare skin. He had a small bowl in his lap that he would dip into between rubbing her leg.  
“Cicero, what are you doing?” She stammered a bit, still not quite awake and finding it difficult to process what was happening. She went to pull the leg away, but his firm grip on her ankle kept her leg from moving from in front of him.  
“You’re hurt. You should have told me.” His voice was normal and his tone was low. He didn’t look at her, but continued to stay focused on her leg. His face was simply blank, and she didn’t know what to do other than just let him rub the healing salve on her skin. It did feel good, and his hands were surprisingly gentle. She sat and watched quietly, simply enjoying someone caring for her, more than she thought she would. It was starting to feel good to not be totally alone, knowing she had at least one person who would fight with her, and protect her. Someone she could trust to have her back.  
“I won’t let the Listener die this time.” His somber voice broke the silence. She knew what he was talking of, since he had mentioned the previous Listener being burnt alive in his journals. She recalled that he wasn’t there to fight with the rest of them, which might have been the only reason he survived when no one else did. His hands stopped moving, and his eyes were somewhere lost in his mind. His face was mournful and he looked heavy hearted. Her arm moved before she could think, and it reached out, touching his cheek softly. To her surprise he closed his eyes and turned his face into her hand. His hand came up to hold hers, pressing it against his cheek, and she let him keep it as long as he wanted. His eyes slowly opened and he looked at her. There was deep pain in them, and he wasn’t the mad jester, but a broken man that had everything taken from him.  
“I will protect you with my life, Cicero, because I know you are the only one true to this Brotherhood.” She vowed to him as best she could, knowing only a tiny amount of his past but knowing it was mostly pain. “But even so, I don’t plan on dying any time soon.” She tried her best at smiling, but his expression didn’t change much. He stared at her a bit confused looking and she just didn’t know what to do.  
“You are the Listener though. Cicero is just the Keeper. You are the most important person here, and you must live no matter what. My life is unimportant.” He was confused at her valuing his life at all. His fingers suddenly intertwined between hers, and he grabbed her hand tightly with both his hands, taking it from his cheek and pressing it against his chest. His eyes were intense as he looked into hers. “You have to live.” He pleaded, his brow tightly scrunched together. “You are the only one that can hear our Mother’s voice, and you must bring the brotherhood back.” His dark amber eyes were as pleading as his voice.  
She returned his gaze, and gripped his hand as best she could. “You may think I am the most important person here, but you are the most important person here, to me.” She could feel his heart beating in his chest as he stared at her. She didn’t even understand the words she had spoken, or why she spoke them, but it was the truth. Despite his insane ramblings, and his odd actions, he had quickly become someone she felt she could really trust. She felt as though she was being pulled into his madness, joining a family of murderous assassins, then singling out the most insane, dangerous, unstable one she possibly could and basically trusting him with her life. Yet the more she thought on it, the more she trusted him, and the more she gave into it. Her instincts were rarely wrong.  
“Lowly Cicero does not deserve anyone to concern themselves with.” The pain on his face was like taking a knife to her own flesh. He lowered his eyes and his shoulders slumped forward. He still desperately held her hand to his chest, almost curling around it. She could only imagine what losing everyone, then spending nearly a decade alone, would do to anyone. He seemed to relish the physical contact, even though it was just a hand.  
She squeezed his hand a couple times, causing him to look up. She pulled her hand from his, regretting the moment of sadness on his face it caused. Though she had to have her hand free so she could scoot herself over on the bed, patting the spot where she had been, and lifting both arms to him as an invitation to come closer and embrace. He looked lost for a moment, yet slowly moved closer, coming to sit where she had been. It was like seeing a goddess offer him an embrace, and he felt something stirring in his chest. He timidly reached out and wrapped his arms around her yet again. She did the same, returning the embrace, which made him squeeze his arms around her even more.  
Thoughts of their differing body sizes crossed her mind. She was a bit small for her kind, and often thought her rough childhood was to blame for her stunted size. She had noticed before that he was a bit small for his kind as well, yet pressed so close to him, the comparison was easier. She had always had a slender frame, and he seemed slight as well, yet his loose clothing contributed to that. He was still quite a few inches taller than her, and his warm chin and cheek felt good on her forehead, even though they were a bit stubbly. His arms were still quite muscular, and his shoulders were larger than she thought they would have been. His firm chest pressed against her own was also a bit wider than she had previously thought. She could feel every breath he took, and she could feel the thrumming of his heart. He may have looked and acted foolishly, but he still had the toned, trained body of a killer.  
His arms shifted a bit, one staying around her shoulders, the other slipping lower, and he squeezed again. She nuzzled into him, also moving her arms to better leverage them to hold him tighter. His scent filled her nose, and those strong arms felt so good. His body was so warm, and the room wasn’t the warmest. She could feel her heart beating faster, and her body growing warmer. Her breathing was getting faster and she was more aware of his chest pressed against her own. The feeling of her breasts pressing against him rhythmically with every breath was causing her heart to beat in her ears. Her head was swimming, and she was feeling things hard to explain. The closest thing she could think of was the pure exhilaration felt from running on all fours through the forest as a werewolf, letting go of everything and running as fast as her body could stand. Holding Cicero in this moment felt similar to giving over to the wolf inside.  
“Have I upset you?” Cicero’s words pulled her mind out of its turmoil a bit. She pulled her face back to look at his concerned face and quickly shook her head. He noticed her breathing faster, and saw her flustered face, thinking she was upset with him again like she had been before when he hugged her too long. She had said it was alright though, but he felt as though she was only being polite and was tired of him touching her. The thought of her being upset with him filled him with panic, but at the same time she had held him so tightly. He was so confused, and didn’t know what to do.  
“No, no you’re fine. I just…” She didn’t even know what to say. What was happening with her? She had no words to explain herself, and the heat in her body was distracting and muddling her mind. “I… I should probably get up and get going though.” She stammered the words out, not knowing what else to say, so she just tried changing the subject.  
“But it’s still dark outside. Cicero thought he could heal your leg before you woke up, so you’d feel your best by the time the sun rose. There’s still a couple of hours before light, and a bit more before the others start to stir.” His tone was still a bit anxious that he was upsetting her, yet he was also upset he couldn’t fulfill his task. “Cicero was trying not to wake you, but it was worse than I thought, and took more time to apply.” His arms loosened and he let her go, moving his hands to her shoulders. His face was intense, and so very close as he looked at her. “Keep sleeping, and I will wake you just before first light.” He let go of her shoulders and went to turn and get off the bed, but a hand on his stopped him.  
“Cicero… Could you, maybe stay with me?” She couldn’t meet his eyes, but instead stared at the hand she was holding. It was soft, yet she could see many scars across the pale skin. She couldn’t seem to form any thoughts, but she didn’t want him to go.  
“You need to sleep, and Cicero is only keeping you awake.” His disappointed tone was low. He felt like he was just bothering her and keeping her awake, always the nuisance. No one else seemed to like him hanging around, so he was sure he was bothering her as well.  
“Please.” She tightened the grip on his hand, this time looking him in the eyes. If this was like giving in to the beast inside her, then she would give in to this beast. “I don’t want to be alone.” She felt vulnerable saying this to him, yet couldn’t stand the thought of him leaving. She wanted his arms back around her. “I want… I want to stay in your arms.” She swallowed hard at the words coming out. Her heart pounded in her throat and she felt hot in the cold room.  
Cicero’s eyes widened at her words. Surely she was teasing him, or mocking him, but her face was sincere. Her bright honey colored eyes shot through his mind like a hot poker. He had to admit, holding her small frame felt wonderful. He wanted to keep her there, protected from everything in the world, and he realized how long it had been without feeling another being touch him. She was the Listener, his Listener, and he would do anything for her. She was precious to him. Even if she mocked him, or teased him, he would do anything for her. He didn’t care anymore, she was beautiful, and kind, and she was the Listener. Even if this was some cruel joke, he would do it for her every time. She was perfect to him.  
He slipped off his boots and turned to face her again, yet this time he slowly laid down in the bed. “As you wish, my Listener, but you still need to rest. We can’t just sit up for the rest of the night.” He managed a small smile, opening his arms towards her.  
She smiled back, still flustered, but ignoring it, wanting only to get back into his arms. She laid down next to him, using his arm under her as a pillow. She tucked her head under his, pressing her face into his neck and chest, her thin arm going under his other arm and wrapping around him, her other one tucked between them. The scent from his warm body was better than the lingering smell of him on the pillow and blankets. She pressed against him, needing more contact. This time she was wanting to feel his chest rise and fall against her own. There was a hunger deep inside her that needed to be satisfied, and the closer she got, the more she felt him against her, the more it hungered.  
Cicero was surprised with the sudden voracity that she suddenly clung to him with. Her slender body was fit and she held him with a power he wasn’t expecting. It wasn’t a joke she was playing on him. She found comfort in his contact. He had something that she wanted from him, something he could provide her, something that made him useful to her. Or at least, so he hoped. There was still that voice in the back of his head. That voice that reminded him how no one wanted his help. The voice that reminded him how he failed everyone, and they were all gone now because he couldn’t save them. Except this time, he didn’t care what the voice had to say. He didn’t care if she was just toying with him, or if she abandoned him the next day. All that mattered was that she wanted something he had right now.  
She squeezed him harder, pressing against his chest as best as she could. His firm chest against her own felt dizzyingly euphoric, and her mouth parted when she couldn’t contain her breath any more. Cicero heard her slight panting as she squirmed against his chest, and he felt the odd stirring inside him again. His own chest felt tight, and he found himself staring at her soft lips. He was suddenly very aware of her breasts pressed against him, the red and black leather like a second skin on her. She was very slender, but still had very feminine curves. She couldn’t find a comfortable spot for her legs, and their knees kept bumping as she pressed and adjusted herself against his chest.  
Frustrated she couldn’t satisfy her own gnawing hunger for more of him, she finally slid a leg on top of his own. It was a bit awkward, but less awkward than bumping her knee against his constantly. When Cicero felt her leg slide on top of his and slowly slip up towards his hip, he instinctively moved his hand from her back, sliding it down the length of her side, over her hip, and coming to rest on her thigh. As he gripped her firm thigh he felt her shiver. His chest felt tighter, and there was a weird pulling in his gut. Something was definitely awakening inside him. He couldn’t help his own movements, and he slid his leg to be between her own.  
Shade was losing herself to the feelings, and when she felt his leg between her own, her body moved of its own accord, moving her leg further up his and into his grip. This was a different beast entirely, and it was harder to control. She pulled her face from his chest, looking up into his eyes. His expression was hard to read, a mix of excitement, fear, anxiety, and confusion, she could see he was also breathing hard. She was suddenly frustrated he was still wearing his hat, and reached up, gently pulling it from his head. As she did so, some of his reddish hair fell across his face. She reached up and gingerly brushed the hairs back, surprised at how attractive he was without the hat. She ran her fingers through the soft strands, pleased with how soft and straight it was. Before she realized what she was doing, her hand had slid behind his head and she was pulling his face towards her own. She wanted to taste his lips. They didn’t have their permanent smile though, but staring at them, she felt the need to experience them pressed against her own.  
Cicero was enjoying the gentle fingers sliding through his hair, but his eyes went wide as she closed her eyes and drew his face towards her own. He felt her soft lips press against his own, and there was an eruption of feelings inside him. Her lips parted, parting his with them, and her warm sweet tongue slid across them. There was a storm of thoughts and feelings inside him, and he felt things stirring in his pants, something he hadn’t felt for years. That part of him was sacrificed long ago, convincing himself that he was not deserving of any sort of pleasure. Yet with her warm soft lips pressed against his, and her curious tongue exploring his mouth, he was overcome with feelings of pleasure. He let his own tongue tangle with hers, pressing into her kiss, and was rewarded with her hand gripping his hair and pulling him into her more. It seemed like an eternity before she broke away from him, gasping air in ragged breaths.  
He drank in the sight of her face. The intense look of a predator in her large fiercely golden eyes, fixed solely on him. Her pinkish cheeks, matching the tips of her ears. Her lovely lips, that tasted like moonlight and felt like lightning. Her breath was like listening to the lapping waves of the ocean, music to his ears. Her dark hair framing her face in the darkness of his room. She was his goddess, and he wanted to worship her, to give her his very soul should she ask for it. Yet he was still afraid to move. The voice that taunted him constantly loudly objecting to everything. 

She would never want you.

You do not deserve to even touch her.

You are beneath her.

“Cicero…” Shade had no idea what she was doing, but she wanted more. She didn’t know how to ask for it though, as she didn’t even know what she wanted more of. All she could feel was the consuming hunger coming from a roaring fire inside her.  
Hearing his name whispered from her lips snapped him out of his own thoughts, and the voice was silenced. His name on her lips made everything go a bit fuzzy for a moment. It made him finally move, pressing against those lips of hers again. It was like swallowing the sun, and he was on fire with the feeling of intense pleasure of her kiss. His pants were so tight they were painful against his delicate parts, but he didn’t care. His hand squeezed her thigh tightly, and the arm she was laying on came up to press her against him. He wanted to envelope her in that moment, his mind swirling around thoughts that couldn’t form properly anymore.  
Feeling him kiss her back was better than her kissing him the first time, and she pulled her arm from his hair and started frantically untying the front of his shirt. The beast inside her was only growing more and more hungry the more she fed it and she couldn’t stand it anymore. She wanted to see his skin, feel it against her own. His lips felt amazing against her own, and she hated having to break the kiss again to greedily gasp air. She cursed her own body for needing to breathe. It gave her an opportunity to look at and try to focus on his damn clothing. His hands came up and replaced her own, loosening the shirt more efficiently than she had been able to. With everything undone, he firmly rolled with her, laying her on her back, then sitting back so he could tug his top off and throw it to the ground.  
This was what she wanted, and his body was hers to do with as she pleased. She also sat herself up, her hands unsnapping and unbuckling the tight leather outfit. She started to squirm out of it as best she could, and felt his hands on her sides, helping to pull it off of her. A slight moan escaped her mouth, and he was consumed by it. She tugged loose finally, and he turned and set her leather armor on the chair beside the bed, not wanting to toss it to the floor. As he turned back to her, he was grabbed and she pulled him to her, rubbing her face against his exposed chest. The more intimate contact was a shock to his senses, and he groaned in response.  
Hearing his groan of pleasure drove her to hear more, so she took his flesh into her mouth and gently bit a spot on his chest close to his collarbone. He gasped and let out another soft moan. She could feel his manhood shift in his pants, and she pressed herself against him. Another moan, this one different than the last, tinted with pain, and she couldn’t control herself. She pulled him into another kiss, and his arms wrapped around her. She moved her body to lay back, and he gently cradled her until she was back on the bed, their lips never parting. Her arms came up and wrapped around him, her fingernails digging into his back. He inhaled sharply, but still kept pressed to her lips. She finally broke away, panting to catch her breath.  
He could feel her body squirming beneath him, and he pulled himself up a bit to marvel at her form. She was exquisite, and he wanted to touch every inch of her perfect skin. She was pale for a Bosmer, but her skin was still more tan than his own, and as he ran a hand up her side the different skin tones contrasted in the dark. He bent back down to feel her skin with his mouth, and was rewarded with her arching her back and letting out a soft moan. Her soft voice drove him to a new level of insanity, and he was soon trailing soft kisses all across her chest, and down across her stomach. He used one hand to undo the thin cloth she had wrapped around her breasts, putting it aside as he drank in her bare chest. Her breasts were small, but they were formed perfectly.  
He bent and put one of her tan nipples in his mouth, gently sucking and flicking it with his tongue. She squirmed and hummed, grabbing a fistful of his hair. He went to the other nipple, not wanting to leave them uneven, and her soft cry of pleasure was like music in his head. He wanted to give her everything he had, worship her, serve as an offering to her. He wanted to hear her song of pleasure make the very stars jealous of her. If he could give her the very world, he would. All he had was himself, so he would give her that for now. Feeling the biting pain in his pants, he suddenly thought of her, and how she might also be uncomfortable in her pants. He finally relented on her bosom, and sat back a bit, sliding his hands down her sides to her hips, slipping his fingers between her skin and her pants.  
She stiffened for a moment, then her hands came down to join his, tugging aggressively at her pants. It took a bit of effort for her to wiggle her legs out of the tight leather. As soon as they were off, she gasped at the sudden contact of his mouth to her inner thigh. She looked down to his face in the darkness, and he stared back as he took another bit of her sensitive skin in his mouth and licked at it. Her hips squirmed and she moaned into the dark room again. She felt his hands slide up her thighs, and hook under her under clothes. She eagerly squirmed out of them as he pulled them down to expose her. A small part of her wanted to stop, but the wolfish desire screaming in her head drowned out everything else. She wanted to feel him, every touch, every kiss, every sensation he could give to her. Each one was better than the last, and the hunger was swelling inside her.  
He felt as though he was committing a sacrilegious act, defiling her with his unworthy self, but he couldn’t stop himself. Her nude body took his breath away, and he reverently pushed her thighs apart, leaning forward to envelope her in his mouth. She moaned deeply and her whole body shuddered at the sensation, her hips pushing towards him. She tasted like the nectar from some magical tree blooming deep in a forgotten forest. Every time his tongue lapped against her slit and pushed against her nub, she squirmed faster, and moaned deeper. The more she reacted, the more he pushed himself to please her. He pressed his tongue against her, harder and harder, using it to get shivers and shudders out of her every time it roughly massaged her little hidden nub. She was rocking her hips against him, timing herself with his motions.  
She gasped and almost growled a moan out when he suddenly sucked her sensitive spot, her hands coming down to his head and tangling in his hair as she grabbed at him. He was switching between long massaging tongue strokes and gentle sucking, and she could barely stand it. Her head was swimming and her face felt numb. She was pushing against him desperately wanting more, her body swelling with a burning heat. The screaming hunger was growing to a point she couldn’t take any longer, and she was becoming frantic for a release from it. She gasped again as he slid his tongue inside her as far as he could. This hit new spots, and only fed the raging inferno.  
She pulled his head from between her legs, his face becoming confused as she sat herself up. She leaned forward, pushing him back as well. She startled him when she gripped him through his pants. She kept one hand on his member while she reached up and grabbed him by his hair again, pulling his head back. She licked at his exposed neck, leaving little bites as she explored his skin with her mouth. Her other hand slid off of him, only to push itself inside his pants and feel his bare member again. He moaned and shivered, goosebumps covering his pale skin. She found his pink nipple and returned some of the pleasure he had given her, delighting herself in his grunts and moans.  
She released him after a few more bites and licks, desperate to get his pants off of him. He shifted as best he could to slip them down and kick them off of his legs. She sat back and took in the sight of him sitting on his heels, completely bare before her. It had been a long time since she had seen a nude man, and he was very attractive. He really was really well toned, every part of his body sculpted perfectly for his frame. He had more little freckles on his shoulders, a nice contrast to his pale skin, along with the now messy red hair framing his handsome face. He had a bit of darker red chest hair, and there was a small trail and patch above his manhood, that was bigger than she thought it would be for his size. He simply sat there, awestruck as he watched her eyes travel across his body. She looked at him with such desire, he felt like his heart would explode. She leaned forward, moving herself to sit atop him, kissing him deeply as her hand was back on his member. She ran her soft hand along his length, gently feeling him.  
He felt as though he would snap and release himself just from her touch. He loudly moaned as she suddenly shifted and pressed her opening against him, the sensation like nothing he could place. She was warm, and wet, and she squeezed him as she slowly slid down on top of his length. He couldn’t control it, and he gripped her hips, pushing himself into her as hard as he could. The look of pain on her face thrilled him in an unexpected way, and he pulled out and pushed back into her faster this time. Her face still tightened with an expression of pain, but her moans were ecstasy and she moved herself to line up with him better. He gripped her firmly and thrust into her again and again, the pain draining from her face, replaced by pleasure. She rocked her hips in time to his thrusts, digging her fingers into his shoulders for leverage.  
He suddenly lifted her, as he also raised up into a kneeling position. He now had one arm cradled behind her, supporting her entire weight. He had slowed his thrusts, now pulling almost entirely out of her, before slowly pushing back in as far as he physically could. It was sending her into a frenzy, not letting her force the pace faster. The hungry desire inside her wanted to keep pushing her faster, craving more with each of his thrusts. Going this slowly was like torture to her, and she was squirming in his arms, trying to get leverage.  
“Cicero…” Again she had said his name, sending goosebumps across his skin. Her eyes were desperate, and her voice was pleading. “Cicero… I need you…” Her breathless plea was too much for him, and he laid her back on the bed. He gripped her hips again, lifting them off the bed, as he pushed into her. She was so narrow, it was such a deliciously tight fit, he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to control himself for long. She gasped and moaned loudly, overcome with the sensation of him finding new spots inside her, and he quickened his pace. Again she made the most beautiful noises he had ever heard, and he knew he was not going to make it. He began to push into her with more force, and quicker still, and he was met with that lovely painful twinged moan of hers as her hands came up to grip his own thrusting hips.  
He would be concerned he was hurting her, if not for her pushing back against him, rocking her body against him with every forceful shove. He started to push into her so hard and so fast that their skin slapped with every meeting. Her cries and moans were reaching a climax, and he felt her tight walls grip him like a vice as her body stiffened and she grabbed at his hips, adding her own force to his. He felt her muscles clench and twitch on him as her body shuddered and she let out a long low groan, and he was not able to stop himself from spilling inside of her. He slammed against her with the last of his energy, pumping into her, feeling the glorious release he was craving.  
He collapsed, careful not to fall on her spread out panting form, still shivering at her own release. She reached up to push her messy hair out of her face, and turned to look into his eyes. They both just stared at each other, panting and exhausted. He suddenly got an odd look on his face, remembering something of some importance, before hastily getting up and grabbing a soft piece of cloth and returning with it. She was a bit shocked, but too tired to care, when he started gently cleaning her.  
“I’m afraid I’ve sullied you. I’m so, so sorry.” He said sheepishly. He felt as though he had just defiled a temple. He should have had more control than that. Stupid Cicero.  
“I didn’t mind.” Her soft voice interrupted his angry destructive thoughts. He looked to her soft smiling face. She was absolutely radiant in that moment, and his breath caught in his throat. She suddenly shivered, and gave him a stern look. “Now get up here so you can keep me warm.” She mockingly demanded him.  
He immediately moved to crawl up beside her, wrapping himself protectively around her and burying her in the furs. She nuzzled against him, finally satisfied of her hungry desires, and quickly fell asleep. Cicero watched her face as she slipped into slumber, a small smile staying on her lips. He could watch her peacefully sleeping for the rest of eternity, although by his guess he only had about two hours at the most that he could let her sleep for. He didn’t want to think of her leaving, so he just stayed focused on her content face snuggled against him for now.


	9. Departure

She woke slowly, feeling a bit cold, and seeking the warm body that should have been next to her. Cicero was gone though, and he had left her tucked in. Her clothes were neatly folded and stacked on the chair that was left right in front of the bed, so she wouldn’t miss them. She could see a warm glow from the other room, and heard Cicero humming to himself as he tapped a spoon against a pot a couple of times. He murmured something to himself that she couldn’t quite pick up on. She stretched out, feeling a different kind of soreness in unfamiliar places. She felt a warm smile on her lips as she remembered what had caused those tender spots. Sudden realization came flooding into her mind, and the smile dropped from her face. She had just bedded the mad jester.  
What in the void was wrong with her, giving in and making a fool of herself like that. What he must be thinking of her, to so quickly and easily give herself to someone like that. Once again she felt like the true fool. She quickly grabbed her clothes and slipped her under clothing back on before hastily trying to get the snug leather armor on.  
“Oh! The Listener wakes!” Cicero’s exuberant voice called to her from the entryway. “Cicero was going to wake you as soon as breakfast was done, but you woke up too early!” His tone mocked disappointment, yet he was grinning ear to ear, the happiest she had seen him.  
“Good morning, Cicero.” Shade greeted him sheepishly. She felt a bit ashamed of herself and was half expecting him to ridicule her. He seemed to only be happy though, there was no underlying tone degrading her for being an easy bed mate like she expected. She had learned long ago from a boy she had given herself to, that males could be especially cruel. Cicero was showing her nothing but his genuine and sincere joy and a sort of devoted respect. It was definitely something she wasn’t sure how to deal with. The whole situation was in fact, something she didn’t know how to deal with. She was wanting to get out of there, and take her time going to this Amaund that the Night Mother had assigned her to. She needed some serious time to think about everything that had happened.  
“Cicero has been getting everything ready for you! I have a bag packed with food, potions, and a few other things. Cicero is sorry, but breakfast will still be a little bit, but then you can eat before you go!” He was very excited to show her how much he could help her. He only wanted to give himself to her, do anything she asked of him, serve her with his very life if he needed to. Something seemed to be upsetting her a bit this morning though, and he was worried she was unhappy with him. He was a very accomplished assassin, and even though it had been years, he could still read people’s body language very well. The fact that she avoided his eyes a bit and stiffened when he spoke to her made him anxious. He didn’t want to bring it up though, afraid of the answer she would give him.  
“That’s ok, Cicero, I can wait a little bit to eat.” She had almost wiggled into her bottoms, and felt a bit exposed but didn’t want him watching her while she awkwardly wiggled into her top.  
“Cicero could help the Listener into her armor, if she would like.” He wanted to help, but couldn’t help thinking of running his hands across her perfect skin as well.  
“No! No, that’s ok… I- I’ve got it.” She blurted it out and felt a bit bad about the twinge of rejection on his face at her words. She wasn’t used to the attention, and with everything that had happened last night, she just wanted to get dressed, eat, and leave. This place was suddenly too hot, too small, and too enclosed. “Sorry, I just… I can dress myself.”  
“Of course. Just let me know if you require me. Humble Cicero lives to serve.” His somber words were spoken as he bowed and left the room. He still had a smile across his face, but not like before.  
With him out of the room she wiggled into her armor as fast as she could. She needed out of this suffocating place quickly. She needed to feel the cold crisp air outside, and run until her lungs burned. She slipped her boots on, and tucked her gloves into a belt so they wouldn’t be left behind. Breathing a few calming breaths, she focused on keeping her composure and tried to get her swirling thoughts in order. Finally she walked out of the room, and went to the small table Cicero had placed a few things on. She noticed her pack sitting nearby, and grabbed it before sitting down. There were a few sweet rolls, some little loaves of bread, some slices of cheese, a small plate of jazzberry grapes, and a jug of milk on the table. Since he was still finishing up with what he was doing, she decided to go through her pack really quickly until he had food ready.  
As soon as she opened it she was surprised with the organization inside. There were neatly wrapped little parcels of food, sorted and cushioned potion bottles, a few empty small pouches that were rolled up nicely, her map, and her small herbal pouch. There were a few other things, a book she didn’t recognize, a fire starting kit, and an ebony dagger in a nice sheath.  
“Cicero, did you do all of this?” She asked, pulling out the book to examine the cover.  
“Are you pleased? Cicero is sorry he touched your things without asking first, but you needed to sleep, and this way now you don’t have to pack.” He looked at her expectantly. He had spent quite a bit of time arguing with himself if she would be happy or mad at him. Now he stared at her, anxious she would be displeased. “That was the only book I could find on the history of the Night Mother, in case you stop to rest and want to read it.” He had remembered every title of every book she had told him that she had read, and he knew that was not a title she had listed. She had expressed her want for more information, and he hoped he had done well.  
“Oh, well, it’s just unexpected. I don’t think anyone has ever packed for me. It was a really nice thing to do, but you really didn’t have to.” Shade was a bit taken aback at the fact that he had done so much for her. She tucked the book back inside, trying to remember the last time someone had done anything like this for her. It was an odd feeling, being cared for. It irritated her a bit, having someone touch her things and do everything for her as though she was a child, yet at the same time, coming from him, it felt good having someone think of her so much. No one ever thought of her. Sure, they all knew her as the Dragonborn, but they all just thought about what she could do for them, not what they could do for her. It might be nice having a servant, she smiled at the almost joke of a thought.  
Cicero caught her soft smile as she looked through her bag. He had done well, she just didn’t seem used to it. Perhaps that meant she was alone, like him. He knew what it felt like to have the world forget you. Yet she was important, and deserved to rule the world should she wish it. He would make her see. Even if she didn’t want anything to do with him, he would still work tirelessly to gain her favor. Even if she despised him, he would never stop trying to show her that she was a goddess among the filth of this world.  
“Well, if you’d like to eat, you’ll have to put the bag down.” Cicero had poured her a bowl of his favorite breakfast stew, and was holding it waiting for a spot to put it.  
“Oh! I’m sorry, here.” She slid the bag off the table and onto the floor. “Whatever it is, it sure smells good.” There was a sweet smell coming from the steaming bowl, and it made her stomach growl. He quickly set the bowl and a spoon down in front of her, before sitting down opposite her. She poked around in the hot thick broth and recognized apples and some small snowberries. She couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out though, and laughed even harder at Cicero’s puzzled face.  
“Did Cicero make something funny?” He was worried his food was so bad it was laughable, and wanted to immediately get up and make her something else.  
“No, no, it’s not that.” She said between giggles. “It’s just that, if I were a true Bosmer, you would have just offended me greatly. It’s a good thing I’m a heretic though.” She poked around a chunk of apple, thinking of when she was told to leave her family and home. She still smiled, the pain from their banishment long healed.  
It took him a little bit to wrap his head around what she had said, before sudden realization struck him. Bosmer were strictly carnivorous, and did not eat anything from any plants. “Stupid stupid Cicero. Always doing the wrong thing. Foolish Cicero, this is why no one likes you. Stupid, foolish, dumb Cicero.”  
“Hey, I said it was alright.” Shade was shocked to hear the venom in his low voice as he spoke. The blank stare he gave her was also alarming. She didn’t think he had realized he had spoken out loud. Although, spending so long alone, speaking to himself was probably something he did often. It was just unsettling to see it, and to hear the hatred and anger in his voice.  
He in fact did not realize he had spoken out loud, and was worried for a moment that she could read his thoughts. He was so stupid though. How could he have not remembered the dietary needs of his beautiful Bosmer Listener? He offered her offensive foods, and thinking about the food he had given her last night, she had also been served vegetables. He felt as though he had fed her poison. She had eaten it though, and enjoyed it, speaking and asking him about each ingredient as she ate it last night. Last night. He would give anything to go back to that experience, yet here he was feeding her awful things instead. Surely she would never give herself to him again.  
“Cicero, are you alright?” His face had gone from blank to looking stressed, to his eyes wildly darting about as he started breathing heavily. He was lost somewhere in his thoughts, and it made her chest hurt watching him lose himself in his own mind. She reached a hand out and grabbed his, jumping at the sharp gasp he let out at the contact.  
“Cicero is sorry, so very very sorry!” He grabbed her hand in both of his, pleading with her. “What can Cicero do to make up for his mistake?” His tone was desperate.  
“Nothing! You don’t have to worry so much. I told you, I was a heretic anyways. I do not follow the ways of my people.” She set her spoon down and reached out to add her other hand to his tight grasp. “Besides, it’s not like any of this came from Valenwood.” She squeezed his hands, and tried to get him to release her other hand, but it wouldn’t budge. His eyes still seemed somewhere else, and she was afraid he was still not really with her mentally.  
“Fine.” She said in a loud commanding tone. “If you want a punishment, then I’ll give you one.” Finally his eyes met hers, fearlessly ready for whatever she said. “Your punishment, Cicero, is to get up, pour another bowl, and join me while I eat.” She said the last bit with a smile. “I told you I don’t like eating food in front of someone.”  
His face finally smoothed, and he regained a bit of control of his thoughts. Just seeing her smile, hearing her softly say his name, that was enough to pull him back from the deep swirling well of maddening thoughts in his mind. “You are too kind to foolish Cicero.” He said as he stood and quickly poured himself a bowl of the soup and sat back down, smiling again. What a kind mistress she was. Such a perfect choice for a Listener. His Listener.  
They ate in relative silence, Shade mostly wanting out of there as fast as she could. She knew how it felt to suffer alone, how your mind can eat at you, how it felt to be discarded, yet she was so exhausted from him. This was a different Cicero than the one before. She wanted to reach out a hand to him, to pull him up, yet sometimes it felt as though he was yanking her down instead. It was just too much. Everything was too much right now. Keeping the company and bed of a mad man that dressed as a jester, speaking with an ancient corpse, treading halfway across Skyrim because a voice in her head told her to, calling a group of assassins her family. What was she even doing? She still had to figure out how to defeat the dragons that were tearing the land apart.  
“I should get going.” She broke the silence with her statement. Cicero looked up, his smile dropping a bit.  
“Of course. Mustn't keep Mother waiting.” His gaze lowered. He knew she would have to leave, but he still didn’t want to see her go. There were so many dangers out there, and he had seen the burn on her leg. He didn’t ever want to see her hurt again.  
“I’ll be back before too long.” She didn’t know what else to say. Just mere hours ago, she wouldn’t be having these confusing thoughts. She grabbed her bag, and stood up, although she didn’t move to leave. She couldn’t seem to make her legs work. Although before she knew it, there were those same arms wrapped around her. He moved so quickly, she had no time to react, and she stiffened at his embrace. Everything felt so awkward now, yet she was unable to keep herself from melting into his warmth. Her thoughts were a mess, but the physical feeling of him pressed against her felt so amazing. She reached around him, molding her body to his, feeling a heat in her stomach, breathing in his scent. He was like skooma, addictive and hard to deny her cravings for him.  
Cicero had felt her body stiffen, afraid she would be mad at him, but his heart felt as though it would rupture when she suddenly relaxed and pushed against him. Little moments like this made the deep inky well in his mind grow small and unimportant. If only he could keep her here in his arms forever, but he knew she had to leave. She would come back though, and she had still let him embrace her. She still let him touch her. He would work tirelessly to prove his worth to her, to gain her favor, to earn her attention. What he would do to have her for an entire night, not just a hurried morning. He felt as though he had failed her, only giving her such a brief amount of pleasure, but circumstances were against them.  
“I need to go.” Shade suddenly let him go, gently pushing away. She wasn’t sure what else to say, but was afraid to lose herself to the tight hunger building inside her again. She had a mission from the Night Mother that must be taken care of. She turned and walked away, stopping in the doorway, taking one last look back at Cicero.  
“Be safe.” He said, with worry on his face.  
“Of course.” She managed a weak smile before leaving. Once away from his eyes, her steps were brisk. It was still early and she didn’t hear anyone else stirring as she made her way to the door. She slipped her gloves on, almost forgetting them and glad she had tucked them in her belt. Once she was at the humming door she stopped before pushing it open. This was it, this was her first task from the Night Mother. This was a new life presented to her. She took a deep breath and pushed open the door, slipping out into the forest.  
The skies were grey, with low hanging clouds and a slight drizzle falling to the soggy ground. It had rained that night, and she took advantage of the spongy ground, moving quickly and silently through the forest. She gave into a faster pace, feeling relief as she put more distance between her and the confusing jester. Soon she was running, her feet pounding the ground as she tore along through the forest. She hadn’t transformed though, and felt even more exhilaration at the burn in her legs and blood pumping in her ears.  
She ran until the forest thinned out, turning into open plains. She ran until she could see Whiterun off in the distance. She ran until her body finally demanded she stopped. Panting, she finally stopped running, sitting down on a rock close to a small stream. Her ears were ringing and her feet were numb. When she ran, her mind went blank, only focusing on the feeling of the run. It was even better as a werewolf, but she didn’t want to risk any encounters or draw any more attention to herself. She could see the hills in the distance, and the snow line at the end of the plains. Just beyond that was her target, her contact, her task. It was exciting being sent to speak to someone that no one had even heard of, someone only known to the Night Mother, instead of the scraps Astrid deemed her worthy of.  
Standing once more, her breath calmer and her body recovered, she started heading towards a small hillside off in the distance, with what looked like a natural overhang. It looked like a good spot to rest for a bit. She considered heading to Whiterun, but quickly dismissed the idea. She was too well known and had a few people waiting for her to do some tasks for them, so it was best to avoid them all for now. It was just after midday, and she thought it smarter to rest now and head out at dusk, then to rest at night and risk bandits or wolves or even giants attracted to a campfire. She could speak to Amaund tonight, then possibly get back to the sanctuary by the following evening if she traveled at a normal pace.  
Going back was both thrilling and terrifying. She was mulling over everything that had happened as she reached the overhang and made a small camp, still feeling a bit ashamed of herself. The only time she had given herself to a boy was when she was still a youth, living in Valenwood. He had been one of the most desirable young males in her small village, and she was smitten with him. They had hunted together, ran through the forest together, and even her first kill of a man was with him. They had been hunting and a man had come forward when she went to skin her kill, demanding she give him her valuables. Some common thief, thinking her young and inexperienced. It was only a split second after her blade had spilled his guts that an arrow flew through the air into the man’s skull. They shared in the hunt, and soon after, they shared in eating the man’s flesh.  
Thinking they had a connection, she gave into his almost constant advances. It was her first time, yet she knew he had shared his bed with a few others before her. He was a good lover, she had thought at the time. She had been happy, and after they had coupled, she spoke to him of her feelings, and he claimed he felt them too. The next day however, she had looked for him, to speak of her plans for them to begin living together, and overheard him speaking to a few of the other males. He spoke of her as though she was some wild beast he had subdued, and mocked how she had confessed herself to him. Her heart shattered when he spoke of her being his third conquest just that month.  
Ashamed, she had completely shut herself off. She didn’t run the forest, or hunt any game, just sat by a still pool by her favorite blossoming tree in the forest. Soon after that, she started to spend more and more time away from the village. Her family was concerned, and her mother went looking for her one day. She found her sitting under her favorite tree, and witnessed her as she reached up and plucked a flower from the tree. To this day she didn’t understand what made her do it, but she remembered the rage from her mother, and the following argument when she was dragged back to the village. The screaming and yelling, the tears from her mother and the slap from her father. She remembered the miserable male she had given herself to, sneering at her as they decided to banish her.  
That was the worst day of her life, walking away from everything she knew. Sometimes the thought of returning would come into her mind, but it had been almost fifty years since then, and she was past that part of her life now. She didn’t even remember the boy's name that had broken her heart, and barely remembered her mother’s and father’s name. She had even stopped using the name they had given her. Why should she concern herself with those that would so easily turn their backs on her? Cicero would never turn his back on her. The sudden thought of him caught her breath in her throat. No, as mad as he was, he would never turn on her like everyone else had. At least she really hoped so. She was used to being alone. She had fallen into a few rough groups over the years, but she had always left, coming to prefer solitude whenever anyone got too close.  
This felt different though. He felt different. She couldn’t place it, but there was such a strong pull towards him. She enjoyed his company, and found his touch unlike anything she had experienced before. Her previous experiences with bed mates paled in comparison to what his touch had felt like. It wasn’t some roll in the bed, but instead it felt like dancing in a fire, all encompassing and consuming. She felt the hungry desire rising in her at the thought of his body against hers, of his mouth on hers. She thought of how he had felt inside her, and felt an aching pull in her pants. She wanted to turn around and go back to him, still not sure what to even say to him though. She shook her head, trying to clear the burning thoughts from her mind. This was not the place or the time.  
She opened her bag, hastily taking out some of the food he had packed for her. She tore into a chunk of bread and tried to focus on something else. No matter what she tried to think of, her thoughts kept going back to Cicero though. She tried to think of what she would say to him, trying to make herself uncomfortable so she’d stop thinking of the red haired man. Not much came to her mind though, and she was lost. Maybe she should tell him it was a mistake, but then she didn’t think she could go on without his touch. Perhaps making him swear himself to her, form some sort of pact, with a punishment should he break it. He seemed eager for her to punish him earlier that day, so that could work. At least she had something, it was just going to feel weird asking a man to pledge himself to her. She tried to make herself sleep a bit, but it was fitful and restless. She soon broke camp and headed towards Volunruud.

Meanwhile, back at the sanctuary, Cicero was a ghost of himself. He didn’t speak to anyone else that day, and spent all his time either pacing his room or staring at the Night Mother. He didn’t know what to do with himself, and his mind was scattered. He had made three batches of oil for the Night Mother, forgetting he had already made a batch. He paced his room, looking at the bed he had just shared with his beautiful Listener. He sat on the bed and his mind wandered over their time together.  
‘You’re disgusting. You aren’t worthy to even touch her.’  
The more she was gone, the more his thoughts ate at his mind. What had he done? He had befouled her very body. He should cut off his hands.  
‘How would you tend to the Night Mother then, you fool?’  
He laughed at his stupid idea. Of course, he couldn’t do that. Maybe he could find something else he could do to repent for violating the Listener. Although he was a bit confused, as memories came back of her asking him to hold her, asking him to touch her, telling him that she had needed him.  
‘Like she would ever want you. She was lying to you. Playing with you.’  
Even if that was true, he didn’t mind. His body was hers to play with if she so wanted to. His heart was hers to keep, and if she broke it, then he would stick it back together and give it back to her.  
‘Nobody wants you. Especially her. You are beneath her.’  
His hands came up to his face, fingers tangling in his hair as he pushed the palms of his hands into his eye sockets. Again confused thoughts tormented him. She had spoken to him and viewed him as an equal though.  
‘She was lying. You are beneath her. Why do you think she left you behind?’  
His jaw started to hurt from gritting his teeth so much. She had left him behind, but it was because she was seeking a contact given her by the Night Mother. She had to leave by herself. He remembered the look on her face as she left. She seemed sad, like she wanted to stay, or she had wanted to say something to him.  
‘That was pity. She looks at you with pity. Because you’re so disgustingly pathetic.’  
The voice in his head gave way to laughter. The constant deafening laughter that had plagued him for years now. His only companion. Usually he would join the laughter, letting it escape his own mouth to make him feel like he was in control of it. Making it his laughter. This time though he just sobbed into his hands.  
“Shut up. Just shut up” He whispered into the cold room.


	10. Dregs of the Past

Shade was almost running towards Whiterun. Her meeting with the contact had gone smoothly, aside from a few awful drauger that decided to wake at her passing. Nothing even challenging for her though. What was challenging was keeping her composure when the man had told her that he wished to have the emperor himself assassinated. Now her body numbly moved towards Whiterun, as fast as she dared to move on legs that threatened to start shaking. She wasn’t going to go in the city, but instead planned on hiring the carriage outside to take her to Falkreath. It was nearly morning, and she wasn’t sure she could keep herself together long enough to make her way back to the sanctuary.  
As she got to Whiterun and paid the carriage driver, she felt like she was watching someone else go about the movements. This surely was a dream, or a joke. Maybe she had fallen victim to Sheogorath without realizing it. She reached into her bag with shaking hands, retrieving the note that he had handed her. She broke the seal on it, not caring at this point what anyone would say to her. It detailed the steps he had outlined to draw the emperor to Skyrim so he could ultimately be killed. She swallowed hard as her stomach threatened to toss its contents onto the floor of the carriage.   
This was going to certainly be a challenge. The first target was going to be Vittoria Vici, the emperor’s cousin, to be done at her very wedding gathering. Even the thought felt unreal. But this was his only idea to draw the emperor to Skyrim, pointing out a previously planned visit was cancelled. She felt a sudden chill as she slipped the note back into her bag, next to the ornate necklace he had given her. She knew Astrid would send her, afraid to risk her own neck. Her mind was racing with how she would even begin to attempt what was being asked of them. Her swirling thoughts stopped when she thought of Cicero. She wanted him to accompany her this time. She wanted someone trustworthy to be by her side.  
As the carriage slowed to a stop, she thanked the driver and hopped off, giving him a few extra coins since he had made better time than she thought he would have. It was late evening, the trip taking most of the day, but she was still expecting it to take until night. She headed along the roadside, veering off into the forest once she was out of sight of the carriage driver. She quickened her pace and headed for the black door, still feeling numb at what she had to relay to Astrid. She couldn’t even summon the hatred for the vile skeever of a woman. As she reached the door she gathered herself and went inside. Astrid was there, at her normal spot by the entrance, and she walked straight for her.  
“I have met with Amaund Motierre. He wishes to hire the Dark Brotherhood to assassinate the Emperor of Tamriel.” Shade had no emotion in her words, no expression on her face as she handed her the letter and the necklace.  
Astrid’s face went from shock to fear. She said something about the Night Mother, finally starting to believe she was watching them, and she expressed her disappointment at the broken seal on the letter. Shade honestly wasn’t really listening to her though, still trying to grasp at the magnitude of what was ahead of her. One thing finally snapped her out of her numb state though.  
“What?” Shade had thought she had heard a name that she recognized.  
“I said, you are to take this to Delvin Mallory with the thieves guild.” Astrid sighed, upset to repeat herself. “He should be able to appraise it and give us an idea of it’s value before we go off killing the emperor for some pretty trinket.” She handed it back to her.  
Shade simply nodded and walked away, tucking the necklace back into her pack. She didn’t hear the rest of the words Astrid said as she walked towards the familiar path towards Cicero’s room. After hearing Delvin’s name, she needed to see Cicero even more so. She had known the thieves guild as a family of sorts for a while, but had just left one day with no explanation. She wasn’t excited to see all those faces again. She would have to explain herself, and some of them had been close before she left. It wasn’t something she would have wanted to deal with any time soon.   
She first entered the Night Mother’s room, although it was still and quiet. She smiled at the small arrangement of flowers in front of the casket, remembering how sweet Cicero had looked as he arranged the flowers for her. She next headed to Cicero’s room, hoping to see him there. She could definitely do with a laugh or a good joke right about now. Her heart sunk as she slowly entered the room though. The floor was littered with some splintered broken wooden thing, possibly a plate or even part of a shelf. There were torn up pages from a book scattered about as well, which she quietly picked one up and looked it over. It was something to do with restoration magic as best as she could tell. She looked at another page on the floor and felt anxiety gripping her chest when she noticed a couple drops of blood.  
Looking to the bed she could see Cicero’s hat resting on the messy blankets. She walked towards it, feeling a pit inside at finding the hat without its owner. As she reached to pick up the hat though, she heard a sniffling sound off behind her. She turned, and almost fell to her knees when she had seen Cicero. He was crumpled against the wall, sitting on the floor with his knees pulled up, his arms wrapped around them, and his head buried. She could see the source of blood on his red swollen knuckles.   
“Cicero?!” She called his name, panicked that something had happened to him. His head slowly came up, and he looked at her with red eyes, dark circles under them. His eyes seemed glazed over, not really registering her face. She was on the floor in front of him, one hand on his arm, one going to his face. “Cicero!” She said his name again, firm and loud. His eyes slowly cleared, and he started blinking as though he had just woken up.   
“You came back.” His voice was weak. He didn’t remember how he had come to be on the floor. He wasn’t even sure of the time of day. He was still not entirely sure he was really looking at his Listener, the voice raging in his mind that he was simply imagining her. The hand on his face felt real though. He reached up and cupped her hand. “You came back.” His voice was more excited now, his face slowly clearing.  
She wiped her thumb across his cheek, feeling the lingering tears on it. Her heart ached at seeing him like this. She felt an anger too. How long had he been like this? Had no one come to check on him? Had no one even come to pay respect to the Night Mother? It had only been a day and a half, not even two full days since she had left. She slowly stood, pulling Cicero with her. He stood, rubbing his face with the back of his hand, looking at her as though he still didn’t believe she was there. She wrapped her arms around him gently, placing one hand on the back of his head, guiding it to her chest. She held him like a mother would hold a child, suddenly very protective of him. She had not known him for that long, but she knew this didn’t seem like a normal state for him to be in. She was worried she had caused his break down when she left.  
“I will always come back to you.” She whispered into his tangled hair. She felt as though she couldn’t leave him alone now. He was exhausting, but maybe if she just toughed it out, maybe if she just stuck around long enough, he could heal. She had an idea. “Come with me, I want to tell you a story.” She pulled Cicero towards the bed, and sat down in it, leaning her back to the wall. She beckoned him over, and as he sat down next to her, she patted her lap. “Lay your head here.” As he laid his head in her lap, she worked her fingers gently through his mess of angry red hair. He let out a content sigh, and she began to speak.  
“When I was young, I lost everything I had ever known or loved. I mentioned to you that I was a heretic, so here is the story of my past.” She looked down at his face. He looked more collected and calm, his eyes fixed on hers. “I had grown up in Valenwood, the ancient forests were my home, and I wasn’t even in my twentieth year of life. I don’t remember how old I was, but I was still young and very foolish.” She felt it best to leave out the bit about the male that had betrayed her. “I had… been hurt by someone close to me, and I was running from the pain I felt. I spent many days away from my family, away from my home, spending most of my time with a favorite tree of mine, deep in the forest.  
One day, while I sat in my misery, I was suddenly aware of how my people lived. I was annoyed with how we treated the forest. I was angry about having to eat the flesh of my enemies. I was hateful toward my people. I don’t remember the exact reason, but I suddenly felt the urge to pick a flower from the tree. As I did so, my mother had come to find me, and was angry with what she had witnessed. She feared I would bring the wrath of an ancient deity upon us all. I had violated their Green Pact. She drug me back to the town, told my father what I had done, and when I refused to repent or even feel bad for my actions, he struck me. Soon after that the whole village was watching me, judging me, and deciding my fate.  
They agreed to banish me. Disowning me and severing all ties from me, out of fear my actions would tie back to them. On that day, in my youth, I lost everyone, and everything. I wandered the forests for a time, but I soon hated living there. Everything was a reminder of the people that had turned their backs on me. All because of a flower, all because I thought differently from them. The mother that birthed me, looking away as I left my home, as though I didn’t exist anymore. I traveled north, but ended up in Elsweyr for a time. I soon fell in love with the Khajiit people, and found myself happy for a brief time. I had so much anger in my heart still, and I sought to inflict pain on others. I fell in with a group of thieves, they were impressed with my archery abilities, and they taught me how to stick to shadows.   
They taught me how to pick locks and slip fingers into unsuspecting pockets. Things were good for a while, but the Khajiit are not a people to be trusted entirely. It wasn’t long until they shared their skooma with me. It was something I had never experienced, and not something I will ever want to taste again. It warps your mind, and controls your thoughts. You soon hit a time when you only think of skooma, craving it above all else. That’s when you get desperate, and when you’re desperate, you get sloppy. We had gotten sloppy, and a few of us had gotten caught. I was one of the lucky ones who managed to slip away. Our leader made a plan to break our brothers and sisters out.  
But when the night came, and we headed out, I just kept walking. I had a moment where I was afraid. I was afraid of losing my life over some stolen goods. I was afraid of becoming one of those outsiders that was found in the skooma dens, a shell of a being, their only thoughts on their next fix. I kept walking, up towards the north, and I never returned. I don’t know what happened to them, and I suppose I never will. I made my way all the way into Cyrodiil, heading towards the Imperial City, where I lived on the streets for a long time. I used my skills to keep myself fed, but I was still lost inside. I still held on to the anger and the pain of my betrayal.   
I was so focused on my past, that I didn’t give myself a future. I barely even had a present. I lived that way for a long time, lost because of my own thoughts. I only managed to pull myself from my misery when I had messed up, and was almost caught.” She took her hand from his hair and pulled up her sleeve, showing him a long scar across her arm. “I had managed to escape, but a guard had caught my arm, and the cut was deep. I went deep in a sewer, hiding in a place I knew no one would look. I was soon weak from loss of blood. Days I spent down there, my wound festering, and my mind clouded by a fever.  
It was then that I realized I was going to die, a runted Bosmer, nameless, forgotten, with nothing in my possession, laying in filth in the sewer below the city. I knew then, that I had only myself to blame. So I tried to drag myself from that labyrinth of filth, I tried to find my way out. Luckily I was granted a second chance, and I was able to crawl my way out of there. I had to leave the city though, so I headed out once again. I found what medicinal herbs I could, trying to regain my strength, and fashioned a bow from some bones I had found traveling the forests. Once again I was able to hunt and feed myself without stealing. It felt good to live again, instead of just barely surviving.   
I made my way into Skyrim, and was soon in Riften. It was nothing like the large city I had been in, but it had a familiar feel to it. I soon fell into the thieves guild there, although this time I was not simply stealing to survive. I could run through the forests and hunt the beasts of the land there. Stealing was just a challenge, and a fun little thing to line my pockets. It felt good to finally start owning things, to finally feel like I had a life. And I had found a new family. Not just a bunch of skooma hungry Khajiit, but people who would actually help me, protect me, and have my back. I worked closely with a man named Brynjolf, who was like a father to me. It was nice having a father like person in my life.   
But there was friction. The leader is a man named Mercer Frey, and something about him just didn’t sit right. I was supposed to investigate some unknown adversary to the guild, but things got very strained between Mercer Frey and Brynjolf, and I don’t know why, but I just ran away again. I have seen some of the thieves guild’s people looking for me, but I left a few years ago, and it’s been a long time since they have looked for me.” She looked to his attentive face in her lap and brushed her fingers through his hair.  
“And now, it looks like I must return to them.” She said these words with guilt in her voice. “I must return to the family I had abandoned, and face them for the task the Night Mother has given me. Astrid has sent me to Delvin Mallory to appraise the necklace the contact had given me.” Her hand stopped brushing his hair, and instead he could feel it shaking. She swallowed before continuing. “Cicero, I… I want you to come with me.”  
At that Cicero sat up. His eyes were wide and he started to smile. The first she had seen since she had come back. “The Listener wants Cicero to go with her?” The smile was spreading, soft and true though, not like his manic smile. “Anything for you.” He was a bit surprised at the sudden turn from her story telling to her asking him to join her, but he didn’t care. She had just confided in him all of her past, all of her struggles, and now she wished for him to be her companion. Had she asked him to cut a finger off for her amusement, he would have done so in a second. Yet she asked for him to be with her. She wanted to spend time with him, just the two of them, and out in the world.  
“Although first.” She looked around the room. “You need to tell me what happened here. I know it wasn’t right, but I had read through your journals. I feel like it’s only fair I shared with you my past, since I stole a look at yours without your permission. I know you’ve suffered, and I know you’ve been alone.” She looked intently into his eyes. “I want you to know that I understand. That I will always be there for you. Even if I leave, I will always come back to you.”   
“Cicero was angry. I had found a book with a healing spell in it, but found that I am no good at it.” He looked to her leg that had been burned. “Cicero doesn’t want the Listener to ever be hurt like that again.”   
Shade let out a small laugh. “I’ve suffered far worse than that, Cicero. Although I appreciate your want to help.” She thought for a minute. “Also, I think I want you to know my name.”  
He looked at her, confused a bit. “But you said your name is Shade.”   
“Ah yes, but that is just the name I gave myself. I have long used that name, but it was not the name I had at my birth.” She liked watching his reactions as he remembered her story.  
“Oh yes! Yes!” Cicero was delighted in sharing all these secrets with his lovely mistress. He could sit and listen to her forever.   
“My true name was… is… Malruin.” It felt odd saying a name she thought dead. But giving it to Cicero just felt right. She wanted him to know it. A secret shared between just them.  
“Malruin. Maaallllruuuuin. Mmmmmmmmmaaaaalllllll…….” Cicero said her name as though he was tasting it, which made her laugh at him. He looked at her, relishing the smile he had brought out of her. “Such a pretty name! Cicero likes it very much! Your secret name is safe with me.” He looked at her, simply basking in her warm happy smile. She was so lovely when she was happy, and he felt horrible for making her worry.   
She stared back at his pale face, appreciating the cut of his jaw and features. He really was a handsome man, but she especially enjoyed his features when he smiled. Her smile faded as she looked at his eyes though. They were so tired, the dark circles under them concerning her. As her smile faded so did his.   
“Cicero, you look exhausted. When did you last sleep?” She was afraid of the answer, almost guessing it before he spoke.  
“Well, Cicero slept the night before he… stood guard for you.” He had not slept the night she was in his bed, not even during that morning, and once she left he found he couldn’t find sleep either. His senses had returned a bit and he felt like it was either evening or night again. “Cicero can still stand guard tonight though! I know I can stay up for four nights!” He was proud of that feat, and it was tested many times in his years of solitude.   
“Are you serious? That is not acceptable!” She was definitely upset at this confession. “You need to sleep tonight, or else I won’t be able to sleep.” She thought a bit, and remembered something that always made her sleepy. “I have an idea though. Something that always makes me relax and feel sleepy.” She got up and went to her pack, digging all the way to the bottom and pulling out her spare clothes, a deep green tunic, with some dark grey leggings. She looked back at Cicero, tilting her head. “You don’t have any other clothes, do you?” She examined his clothing, as ridiculous as it was, she had grown quite fond of it, although it was a bit rough. It was faded and worn in places, with a few small tears and patches sewn over others.   
“Cicero… hasn’t really thought about extra clothes.” He was thinking of something he could produce to satisfy her request though. “Oh!” He quickly got up and went into the other room, digging some random clothing out of a drawer. He returned with the clothing, offering it to her to see if she approved. Malruin just giggled at his exuberance.   
“Those will suffice I guess.” It was a simple white top with some dark brown pants. She would have to get him a nice change of clothes when she had time. “Alright, follow me.”   
They went down a staircase, past the kitchen, then down again. This was a room that many didn’t even use, but somewhere Malruin had wanted to visit. She pushed open the heavy door to the warm room that held a large tub, with a couple large bowls resting near a spring coming out of the rock wall. She went and filled a large bowl, pouring it into the tub. She did this a few times while Cicero just looked at her, puzzled. He had seen a bath, but a cold bath didn’t sound all that great at that moment. She saw his scrunched up brow and reached her hand towards him. As soon as he was close enough, she grabbed his hand, and dipped it into the water.   
It was warm, deliciously warm, which explained the warm feeling of the room. She handed him the bowl, and he set about filling the tub for her. She had poured a small bottle into the water, and it smelled vaguely of flowers and herbs, the water foaming a bit at the mixture. He just about dropped one of the bowls of water when he turned around and saw her undoing the buckles on her leather armor. Would she ask him to bathe her? He could only hope, but even if she just wanted him to pour the bath then leave, he would do so happily.  
“I think that's probably full enough. If you fill it too full we’ll just spill the water back out.” She didn’t feel the shame from before, and wiggled herself out of her armor, placing it on a small shelf in the corner. She next got her legs free of the tight leather pants, and set those on the shelf as well. She left her underclothing on though, still not wanting to open that door at this time. She couldn’t help smiling as she turned and walked towards Cicero, his bewildered face totally consumed with her form.   
“Well?” She questioned him, raising an eyebrow. “Are you going to get out of those and join me?” She laughed at his sudden movement, as he pulled himself out of his top and kicked off his boots. He then dropped his pants, and stood there stark naked before her. She quickly looked away, laughing again. “Cicero, where are your under clothes?”  
“Oh, well, you see, Cicero doesn’t like to wear them.” He was suddenly fearful she wouldn’t want to see him nude. “I can go find some though.”  
“No, it’s fine, just… unexpected.” She was still giggling at his shameless behavior around her. There really wasn’t anything he seemed to keep from her. She slowly eased herself into the tub, motioning for him to follow. It was a bit of a snug fit, but they still managed. “Cicero, why don’t you turn around, let me wash your hair.” He seemed to struggle with the idea, but ultimately he slowly turned in the tub so his back was to her.  
He was immediately rewarded with her hands gently guiding his head back, warm water trickling over his scalp. She gently ran her fingers through his hair as she ran the slightly soapy water through it. He kept his eyes closed the entire time, the experience feeling like something from a dream. Once she was done, she took the small cloth she had and gently ran it over his shoulders. Then she moved down his back, and to his arms. He felt like she had wasted enough time on him though, and turned back around.   
“You are so kind to Cicero.” His tone was low, his body feeling the exhaustion now. “Too kind.” He took the cloth from her hands, running it down her thin arm before gently scrubbing the other one. He couldn’t meet her eyes in that moment. She was doing so much for him, being so nice to him, she had even read his journals. She knew him better than anyone else did, aside from maybe the Night Mother. Yet here she was, still accepting him, still showing him kindness, still concerning herself with him and his feelings. She was truly wonderful, and he was unworthy of such a perfect woman.  
He was roused from his thoughts when she grabbed his hand. She took the small cloth back, and used it to carefully clean off the thick dried blood on his knuckles. It took a little bit of scrubbing to get all of it off, and he studied her face as she cleaned them. Her look of concentration and soft careful cleaning was enough to make his heart beat heavy in his throat. What had he done to deserve such kindness, such a beautiful and gentle Listener?  
‘Nothing. You’ve done nothing to deserve this.’  
He closed his eyes, trying to block out the hissing voice reminding him of his place. He knew he didn’t warrant her affections, but he couldn’t move to stop her. He enjoyed her attention, even if it was out of pity, even if it was done as a joke, even if she was lying to him. He wasn’t concerned with her hurting his feelings. His feelings were unimportant when it came to her. She could put a blade to his throat and he would let her spill his blood. He only struggled to keep the hateful companion in his head quiet.   
“Am I hurting you?” Malruin’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He opened his eyes and relaxed his face, trying to give her a smile.  
“No. Cicero is just…” He trailed off a bit. He didn’t have words for what he felt.   
“You look so tired. Come on, let’s get out and get you in bed.” She carefully stood and got out of the tub, reaching her hands out to him next. He took them and got out, but didn’t release her hands once he was out. He stood before her, holding her hands between them.   
“You are far too kind to Cicero, and it is confusing.” He looked her in the eyes and brought her hands down, releasing them finally so he could reach around her, embracing her. “Cicero will do anything for his Listener.” He could feel the manic laughter growing in his head, mocking him. He squeezed her tighter, as though her physical form was keeping him from swirling down a drain towards the dark inky well in his mind. He heard a soft laughter this time, not the one he was familiar with, and looked at Malruin, her face soft, giggling at him.  
“Your Listener?” She smiled at him. “I thought I was the Night Mother’s Listener. But, I kind of like the idea of being yours too.” She watched the anxiety on his face turn to joy at her words. “Although, we should really get some sleep. Hurry up and get dressed. We can talk all day tomorrow while we travel.” She gently pushed him towards his plain clothing, before heading to hers.  
Cicero was sad to let her go, but grabbed the plain clothing and quickly got into them. Tomorrow. He had almost put it out of his mind that she had wanted to travel with him. He could feel his eyes getting heavy, the effects of the warm water and gentle hands making his body feel heavier than normal. He would rest himself so he could be the best he could for tomorrow. He would entertain her, protect her, and keep her as happy and safe as he could. He wasn’t sure what would happen in Riften, but he would be there with her no matter what.  
They headed back up towards his room. Malruin could see his eyes betraying his exhaustion, wanting him to sleep as long as possible. She wasn’t sure when he last ate, and was a bit hungry herself, but kept it to herself out of fear he would want to make her food. They could eat in the morning. Once back in the room, she set her armor and his red and black jester’s clothes on the stand inside, then straightened up the bed, moving his crumpled hat to be with the rest of his clothes. She crawled into the bed first, then laid down facing him. It was like looking at someone else. He stood there in drab clothing, his face slack and missing it’s signature mad smile, no hat, just his red hair hanging around his pale face. If not for the empty look on his drained face, she would have considered giving in to her hunger again. He was enticing to look at.  
She used her arm to motion him over, lifting the blankets for him. He didn’t make a fuss or even say anything, just simply laid next to her. This time she put her arm under his head, her other arm coming up to stroke through his damp hair. She wasn’t sure what came over her, but she hummed a song she had learned from the Khajiit. She didn’t remember the words, but remembered it was about a great pirate and sailor. Cicero watched her face quietly until his eyes closed. His breathing soon heavy and slow, she knew he was asleep. She said a silent prayer to the Night Mother, asking for any help to heal his mind, before falling asleep herself. He was certainly exhausting, and her sleep was troubled by all the times she had run away from difficult situations before. She was determined to stay this time, but the fear was still there.


	11. Decisions in the Dark

Malruin suddenly opened her eyes, her heart beating fast and her breath quick. She felt as though she was still running, the feeling left over from a dream she couldn’t quite remember at that moment. It wasn’t the first time she had awoken in that state that night. Her sleep was fitful and not very restful. Every time she woke, she noticed Cicero would stir and whimper in his sleep as well. She cared for him deeply, but he was utterly draining to be around. It was like dealing with multiple people, and the heavy cloud looming over her currently was hard to shake. She shouldn’t be getting this close to him. When she had left he had fallen apart. Was he going to do that every time she left? Would she have to keep him with her at all times? If she did leave him, would she slip up because she was worried about him?  
It was a lot to take in all at once, and her dreams were haunting. What would happen if she chose to just run? Could she even run? Would the Night Mother haunt her thoughts? What would happen when she died and had to face Sithis? Icy tendrils spread across her body at the thought. This was definitely a situation she had gotten herself stuck in, and she was beginning to regret laying with him. Just last night he had called her ‘his Listener’, and at the time it filled her with a pleasant feeling of being desired. Now though, she was feeling panic instead, thinking of having to keep him as a constant companion. Although just looking at his sleeping face was enough to calm her down. Maybe this was the worst of it, and everything would slowly get better. Maybe he could learn to control his mind again.  
This time the face wasn’t there however. She pulled the blankets back and sat up, stretching her arms and yawning. He had probably woken and was off doing something, at least she hoped that was the case. Flipping the blankets down, she scooted out of bed and stood up in the chilly room. There was no glow from the small fireplace in the adjoining room, but she thought she heard movement. She quietly made her way to the doorway to look into the room, still sticking to the shadows out of caution. There were still many people inside this place she did not trust.  
She peeked in, and relaxed when she saw Cicero sitting on one of the benches before the Night Mother. Curious, she didn’t let her presence be known, and simply watched him for a bit. He didn’t seem like he was doing much, just simply sitting in his plain clothing, looking reverently at the Night Mother’s corpse. After a bit though, he lowered his head, placing it in his hands. She wanted to move to comfort him, but he began whispering to himself, so she stayed, curiosity keeping her still.  
“Please.” Cicero didn’t realize he was speaking out loud. He often didn’t think of it, since there was usually no one around to hear him. “Please.” He had been woken by Malruin’s angry sleep, and had stealthily slipped from the bed, leaving her sleeping form. He was afraid he was the cause for her discomfort and troubled dreams. Who would willingly lay beside him?  
‘Because she pities you. You’re disgusting and pathetic. Why do you think she bathed you? Why do you think her body squirms when next to yours? Because you’re repugnant.’ The voice came sharp and cut him deeply inside. It was true, too. She had not desired him this time. Instead she was restless and slept poorly. He had woken a few times to her body tossing itself, her breathing heavy and strained. He tried to keep still, but it was hard not to remove himself. This last time was too much though. She had a pained expression on her sleeping face, and she had rolled away from him. He wanted to hold her tightly, but when she let out an almost angry groan in her sleep, he thought it best to get up instead.  
The only thing he could think of was to plead with the Night Mother. She could not speak to him, but she could at least speak to the Listener. He felt himself too low to be bothered with though, but it was the only ears he could speak to, even if she ignored him. Everyone else he had known was either dead or had left him behind. He was worried his beautiful Listener would share that same fate, either facing a gruesome death or leaving him behind.  
“Please, just keep her safe.” His voice was stressed. “Please don’t let her die.” Tears started to spill out of his eyes and ran down between his cheeks and his hands. “Please, Mother, please.” His voice cracked and he gave into sobs that shook his shoulders. “Please… I don’t want to lose her.” His face sunk into his hands more until his fingers were tangled in his hair. Tears rolled down his face in between ragged sobbing gasps.  
Malruin felt the tears on her cheeks before she realized she was weeping with him. She moved from the doorway, her mind clear. If he was her burden, she would bear it. She wouldn’t run from this, knowing it would destroy him. She quietly approached him, not wanting to startle him, and spoke softly before reaching him. “Cicero, are you ok?”  
His head snapped up and he turned to see her approaching in the dark room, only the glow of the dim candles by the Night Mother’s coffin lighting her face. “Malruin.” He said her name in shock, although still kept his voice low. “I’m sorry, did Cicero wake you?” He was trying to dry his face with the back of his hand.  
“It’s ok, I couldn’t sleep anyways.” She sat next to him on the bench, resting a hand on his back. “Why did you get up? Is something wrong?”  
“Cicero felt like he was bothering you. You need sleep more than lowly Cicero.” He gave her a fake smile, trying to play it all off.  
“I… I heard what you were saying.” She admitted to hearing his concerns spoken to the Night Mother. “Are you afraid?” It was blunt, but it was just how she spoke. Sometimes being straight forward was best when people were upset. He didn’t respond though, so she scooted closer and took his hand. “Because it's ok, to be afraid sometimes.” He looked to her, and she looked into his dark amber eyes. They were a bit red, but at least they were back to their normal alert sharp state.  
“Cicero has just… lost many along the way. He doesn’t want to lose this one.” He sniffled his nose and rubbed her hand with his thumb.  
“I promise to always come back to you, and I don’t promise things lightly.” She stood up, wanting to pull his attention away from his destructive thoughts. “Besides, didn’t you say I was ‘your Listener’?” She raised an eyebrow at his expression. It was an odd mixture of surprise and he almost seemed a bit embarrassed. “I think I remember you telling me you were a humble servant as well.” She paused again, relaxing at his expression again. At least she could help pull him from his darkness. “If that is true, then I order you back to bed. It’s late, and I’m still tired, and it’s cold in that room.” She mocked an authoritative tone.  
Cicero was shaking the despair he had felt. She truly was too kind, too wonderful, too perfect. Every time she spoke to him, the slithering voice in his head grew quiet and he could think clearly. He stood up in front of her with a flourish, and exaggerated a deep bow. “Humble Cicero lives to serve.” He looked up from his bow, giving her a wide smile, rewarded by a smile of her own. He absolutely loved seeing those lips smile.  
Malruin giggled and tilted her head. “Come on then, let’s try to get some more sleep. We have a lot to do before we head out tomorrow, and it will be a long trip.” She turned and made her way back towards his room, Cicero following dutifully behind her. A sudden though crossed her mind, and she turned back towards him to ask, but didn’t realize just how closely he had been following her. She was startled by the intense face before her, and lost her balance a bit, wobbling to her side. Before her body could react, there were those same arms around her. His face was only a few inches from her own, and he had one arm around her shoulders, while the other was down around her waist. Her breath caught in her throat and she had to swallow hard before she could gasp air again.  
The energy between them was suddenly very different, and she could feel her ear tips growing warm. The gnawing hunger inside her was very sharp and very demanding as she drank him in. His pale skin showed through the loosely tied front of his shirt, red hair falling around his face, those deep eyes of his looking straight into her. He truly was a sight to behold, once you got past a lot of his oddities. Pressed against him like this was intoxicating, and her mind was suddenly blank, forgetting the question she had wanted to ask him. It felt as though she could see the madness behind his eyes, and she helplessly fell into it. After what seemed like an eternity, she finally moved her gaze from his eyes, only to fall on his lips. She was desperate to taste them again. The tightly wound gnashing hunger inside her screaming for her to lean forward and take them.  
Cicero was also standing there lost to the moment. She had spun around and almost ran right into him. He had instinctively caught her, but now with her so close, his mind had gone to that odd fuzzy feeling. He knew the voice was screaming at him, but he couldn’t hear it anymore. He watched as her eyes ran across his chest, up to his face, then settled on his eyes. Her bright yellow eyes were like facing a great predator, and he felt as though she could read his thoughts with how intensely they pierced him. She had finally looked away, only to stare at his lips, her own mouth slightly agape as she quickly gasped at the air. His desire for her was so strong he couldn’t control himself, and he leaned forward, taking his arm from her shoulders to run his hand up the back of her head.  
Their lips met and she responded with an aggressive kiss, her arms coming up to grab the front of his shirt. The immediate response was more than he could handle, and he moaned into her kiss, feeling himself stiffen in his pants. She was so close that she felt it as well, and pressed her body against him. He felt his manhood stiffen and shift even more at her response, pressing against her even more. He could feel her body even better than when she was in the thick leather armor. As she finally released his lips to gulp air and look him in the eyes, he took the opportunity to let go of her head and lift her body.  
She was still surprised at his hidden strength. It was stirring to have him deftly lift her and carry her. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist and she was kissing him again, this time teasing his lower lip between her teeth. He was taken by her sudden passion, and he tried to concentrate on heading towards the room with her in his arms. Everything was suddenly happening again, and he had to try to keep his mind focused. This wasn’t a dream, this wasn’t a cruel joke, this was happening again and he was going to make it even better than it had been last time. He was determined to prove himself to her, worship her, and make her feel pleasure like she had never experienced before. Maybe then she would never leave.  
He squeezed his eyes tight at the painful thoughts of losing her, and continued to shuffle blindly towards the room, more focused on the eager mouth on his own. Finally feeling the doorway against his arm, he moved to the left and instead found a small dresser that was in his room. He shifted his arms and placed her onto the dresser. She kept her legs wrapped tightly around him, moving herself against his throbbing member. She felt so good through the thin clothing, and he couldn’t resist slipping a hand up under her shirt to find one of her firm breasts. He was rewarded with a gasp as his fingers found a nipple and teased it.  
“Cicero.” She whispered his name, her voice husky and low. She found herself once again unable to keep herself from him. Something about him stirred her inside, and she simply couldn’t resist the screaming hunger and intense heat he caused her to feel. There was a sharp pang in the back of her mind of guilt though, feeling like she was taking advantage of her position and the broken mind of a damaged man. Had they met as normal people, under normal circumstances, would they be acting this way? She tried to shake the doubts from her mind. Cicero’s mouth and hands easily let her silence her thoughts and return to the moment. She felt his hand leave her bosom and let out a small whimper at the loss of its attention.  
She soon felt his warm hands place themselves firmly on her hips, and she felt a small shiver crawl across her skin. They were deliciously warm, and she squirmed against his grip, feeling his hands slip up above her pants then slip under the tops of them, guiding them off of her. She tried to shift to help him remove them as best she could, biting his lip in excitement at the thought of what was next. Her hands tangled in his hair and she moaned at the cold air against her bare skin. She felt a familiar taste in her mouth and felt Cicero pull away from her lips finally. She had broken the skin and watched the almost black line of blood trail down his face in the dark room.  
Cicero had felt her getting more aggressive and more forceful, but was a little shocked at the sharp pain in his lip. When he finally broke their kiss he could see his blood on her lips, and felt the sting as his wound seeped. He reached up, feeling the warm liquid on his lip, and stared at the blood on his fingertips. It was beautiful to him to see his blood on her, almost as though she bore his mark. Without thinking of what he was doing, he reached out, smearing the blood from his fingers across her cheek. It was maddening to see her marked by him. Blood suited her, and made her even more lovely to him. Her light skin, marked with the deep red glint of his blood, her black hair messily framing her face, those sharp golden eyes almost glowing in the darkness, looking for prey to feast on.  
Something inside him snapped, and he reached to her hips again, yanking her underclothes off this time, and gripped her hips hard. He dropped to his knees before the dresser and pulled her firmly towards the edge, almost burying his face between her legs, not giving her a chance to respond. She immediately pushed against him, almost growling at the sudden sensations. His grip on her didn’t relent though, and he roughly pushed into her, his tongue fiercely rubbing against her slit and torturing her little node. Her taste mixed with the tinge of his blood drove him to double his efforts.  
She was taken by surprise by his sudden forceful and eager attention. She wanted to call out to him, but she couldn’t get her voice to respond. She tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling on him, but he didn’t budge. She clawed at his back, and pushed at him with a foot, but still he didn’t move. The more she squirmed, the more his hands gripped her, and the more feverish his tongue movements became. She was losing herself to the feeling, not able to get him to stop, but still squirming to feel the vice like grip on her hips and the ravenous lapping of his mouth. Something inside was building, like a great wave upon the shore, and she felt her body start to rock with its own movement against him.  
She felt everything building until she couldn’t contain it anymore, her body shivering and her muscles convulsing, every inch of her consumed, her breath burning her lungs, and stars dancing behind her eyes. It took everything in her to not keep herself upright as she felt an intense release inside her. “Cicero!” She called out his name, finally able to speak between the ragged gasps. Everything went taut, every muscle flexed, and as soon as it came, it was fading, her body relaxing between spasms, toppling forward, barely able to hold onto the man pressed between her legs.  
He had finally slowed his movements, now drastically gentle compared to before, softly running his tongue slowly along her folds. Each slight movement causing a shudder through her body. He felt a small stab of disgust for taking her in such a way. He should have never been so greedy, he had just been caught off guard at how she looked with his crimson mark. She deserved pleasure, not him, and yet here he was taking for himself. He was determined to make it up to her, and gently slid his hands along her limp frame, lifting her gently. He carried her to the bed and placed her reverently on the soft furs and blankets. She laid before him, her eyes glowing softly without their intense hunger. He was consumed by her beauty once again, and swore she had to be some other immortal being, possibly even a Daedra to be formed so perfectly and consume him so completely.  
He would willingly give his soul to her though. He slipped his hands under her shirt again, guiding it gently off of her. She hadn’t worn a breast wrap to bed, so she laid bare before him, and he bathed in her form. She responded so much to his touch, and looked at him so sweetly. The slimy black voice in the back of his head couldn’t even be heard when she looked at him like this. He ran his thumb across the mark of his blood on her cheek, smearing it a bit more. She smiled and turned into his touch, but shivered a bit beneath him. He quickly slipped a blanket over them both, and laid himself on top of her, meeting her mouth in a soft, long kiss.  
He wasn’t done yet, and felt he needed to continue to pleasure her to atone for his selfishness earlier. He started to trail kisses down her throat, across her collarbone, and down to her breasts. He teased and nibbled at each one, getting small gasps and moans from her. He went to go lower again, but her hands reached down and gripped him by the chin, making him look up to her golden eyes.  
“Please.” She whispered as she pulled him back up. Reaching now down between them, she gripped him through the pants he had on. “Please, Cicero.” She ran her hand along the length of him and only released him to unfasten his bottoms and tug at them. Once loose, she slipped her hand inside, gripping him and stroking at his painfully throbbing manhood. Once again his mind was on greedy lustful thoughts of indulging himself in her flesh. She was making it difficult to resist his urges and focus on her. But her breathy whispers, her soft pleading, and hearing his name on her lips, it was too much.  
He shifted so he could slip his pants off, sitting up briefly to slide his shirt off of him in one smooth motion. She was thoroughly enjoying watching his lean muscles move so quickly. There was a danger to him, a hidden strength, a deep madness, but in these moments, he was utterly devoted to her. He was harmless to her, and sane while focused on her. Maybe this was her way of mending him, to give herself to him so he could have something to grasp in the turmoil. She could get used to this every night, she mused to herself.  
Cicero took her smile while looking at him as his cue to take her lips in his again. His thoughts of being greedy forgotten, he gave into his desire. He kissed her deeply, toying with her tongue, and pressing against her. He took one of his hands and trailed it down her side, sliding over the front of her hip, and following the crease between her leg and her stomach, until he found her opening. Her soft moan as his fingers rubbed her swollen and wet slit was like music in the night air. She was still so wet from before, and still quite sensitive it seemed.  
He pressed a finger into her warm opening, feeling her press against him and moan again into his kiss. He delighted in making her squirm and wiggle against him as he teased her nub with his thumb and pressed his fingers into her. Her breathing was getting frantic, and she was trying to shift to give him better access, becoming more and more pressing with her own needs. He couldn’t hold back anymore, and took his hand away from her, to guide himself into her. He pushed into her slowly, careful not to be too forceful, fearing the look of pain on her face, but was surprised by her legs coming up to wrap around him, pressing him in harder than he had intended. She grimaced in pain, opening her eyes to give him that wolfish stare again. The pierce of her bright demanding eyes was more than he could take.  
Cicero felt something in his mind shut off, like snuffing a candle, and for a moment, his thoughts stopped. He grabbed the legs wrapped around him, breaking their grasp on him, and held them firmly in place while he pulled himself out of her, only to drive himself back in. Her gasping moan encouraged him to do so again, pushing deeper still with his next thrust. Again he pulled back only to push firmly back in, again and again. He released her legs, which only moved to better brace herself, and grabbed the wood headboard with one hand while grabbing the back of her neck with the other. He pulled her into a deep passionate kiss while his entire body worked to fiercely push into her.  
Malruin felt as though the bed was going to break beneath her with the sudden savagery of his thrusting. She wasn’t complaining though, and relished in every wave of euphoria following each fierce lunge. The sound of their flesh meeting, along with the pain of his roughness and their bodies hitting was driving her to an even new level. His fiercely passionate kisses were making her head swim and she wasn’t sure she had more left in her, but with every thrust she felt a fire being stoked inside. Her breath was coming in between deep moans as her hands grasped at his shoulder to steady herself.  
Knowing she was close, Cicero got a wicked glint in his eye, and gripped her body suddenly, lifting her easily from the bed. He swung her around and placed her back on the small dresser, shoving her against the cold stone wall. A manic smile spread across his lips as he heard her inhale sharply at the cold surface, not giving her a chance to regain herself before driving into her fiercely again. This new position gave him even more leverage, and she was quickly forgetting the cold wall digging into her back. Again she was lost to the intensely rough thrusts, and felt even more of a rush every time she caught his devilish smile and intense eyes.  
She closed her eyes as she felt her body tensing. Her fingernails dug into the freckled shoulders she was clinging to for stability, and the pained grunt and even more savage thrust in response was the last bit she could take. Her body shook with release again, and she called his name as she arched her back into the night. He gripped her hips as he drove into her, also reaching his climax. It was too much to feel her muscles tense on his shaft as she called his name, and he drove into her with the last violent bits of strength he had. She felt his warmth fill her before he finally slowed his assault. She slumped forward, panting against him, this time knowing she had nothing left.  
Before long she felt his hand come up and caress her, before lifting her and gently placing her back on the bed again. Although he didn’t get in with her, instead she heard him pad off into the other room. Before she could protest though, she heard him grabbing a few things in the darkened room. He quickly returned with a wine bottle, two cups, a couple small potion bottles, and a few small cloths.  
“I’m afraid I’ve made a mess of you again.” He said, a bit upset sounding.  
“I don’t mind. It was well worth it.” A soft chuckle chased her words. He was so full of surprises, and he was definitely exhausting, but after that, she decided it was worth the rough patches to savor the good moments. Although she did take the cloth he offered her, and got back into her underclothes after cleaning herself up a bit. He gave her a puzzled look as she slipped them back on though.  
“What? Just because you don’t wear them doesn’t mean I dislike wearing them.” She laughed again.  
“Cicero wasn’t done though.” He said with a defeated tone.  
Malruin just about choked on her own breath. “Cicero, we can’t just go all night!” She was still laughing a bit, but felt a bit of anxiety at the seriousness of his face.  
“Well, that’s why Cicero grabbed some stamina potions.” He replied a bit flatly, not sure why she kept laughing at him. Maybe he performed poorly again?  
“That’s not what I mean.” She was giggling at his idea, and almost wanted to entertain it. “But we still need sleep. Tomorrow will be a long walk to Whiterun, followed by a long carriage ride to Riften. It’s too dangerous to cut through the pass, so it’s best to be safe.” She relaxed when she saw realization finally cross his face.  
“Of course, of course, foolish Cicero.” He clicked his tongue at himself, but then set about to other tasks. “Then at least have a bit to drink.” He poured her a cup of the watery wine, the common drink for anyone not wanting mead, unless you were a milk drinker, and offered it to her. “And there are still stamina potions and a healing potion if you need them.” He offered her the potions, but she declined them.  
“It is kind of you to think of me, but I only need to sleep.” She drank the last of the cup of wine, quenching the thirst she had worked up. “Which means you need to drink something and lay back down.” She smiled as she handed him back the cup and patted his leg. He quickly followed her advice, and set their cups on the small table by the bed. He still set the potions there in case she changed her mind. Then he was eager to get next to her, offering her the best spot he could manage on the small bed. She quickly snuggled in beside him, resting her head against his chest.  
“By Sithis, you are exhausting, Cicero.” She tilted her head up towards his, now a bit somber. “No getting up in the middle of the night to go sulk to the Night Mother.” She watched his face cloud a bit at the memory. “I swear it, I will always come back to you. So stop worrying so much. I can’t go on contracts if I’m constantly worried about you.” She smiled, her tone lighter than the words she spoke. She hoped she could get through to him. He was sharp, always covering his intelligence with his goofy behavior, but she hoped to make him more aware of her own worry for him.  
“Cicero swears too! He trusts his Listener.” His tone was low and he was a bit upset with himself. He squeezed her tightly. The thought never crossed his mind that he might be a distracting thought for her. He would do his very best to keep her safe, and to trust in her coming back to him when she would have to leave by herself. It had just been so long since anyone had even bothered with him. He didn’t want to be a burden to her. He gave her a smile and continued to hold her tightly until her breathing became even against him. He soon drifted off as well, not able to keep his tired body awake.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this story has become so long! I'm still trying to get so much story packed into it too, and I see no end in sight for what started as a short drabble idea. Please leave comments if you're enjoying it or if you have any criticism!


End file.
